


Arm the Doors

by Minkel23



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Airplanes, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amy johnson - Freeform, Angst with a Happy Ending, Assisted Suicide, Cancer, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, First Kiss, Guardian-Ward Relationship, Implied Murder, Kylo Ren and Rey Are Related, Licking, Loss of Virginity, Manipulative Behaviour, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mentions of Suicide, Mutual Pining, Novelist! Kylo Ren, Past Child Abuse, Reconciliation, Recreational Drug Use, Reunion, Reylo Baby, Rough Sex, Sociopathic behaviour, The Millenium Falcon - Freeform, Therapy, Undressing, Voyeurism, but not really, end of life care, life support, lots of therapy, mention of abortion, now with happy ever after, oh look I wrote some fluff, sex under the influence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-18 22:04:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 97,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14861120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minkel23/pseuds/Minkel23
Summary: Rey, an orphaned British Omega, was adopted into untold privilege and wealth.Leia has given her an education and Han has given her a love for flying and airplanes.But why do they never mention Ben, the son they have, who she has never met?And why, when Leia dies, does she put Rey into his care until her twenty-first birthday?That’s right. Welcome to the Alpha/Beta/Omega AU with a healthy dash of aeronautics, all under the old Guardian/Ward trope.I make no apologies for this.





	1. Plutt’s School for Omega Girls

Dinner at the Plutt School for Omega Girls was always, without fail, a loud affair. 

The roomful of girls, suddenly free after a full day of studying for their upcoming A-levels, chattered inanely together, the laughs, shouts and raucous retelling of that day’s scrapes and gossip carrying across the large hall. They sat in their groups and cliques, the plaid skirts of their uniforms pressed neatly against their legs, a tartan mass of giggles, straightened hair and expensive make-up.

These girls were the daughters of the European elite, the progeny of money, privilege and entitlement. They were exquisitely turned out young women, breathtakingly confident in both their looks and status. They were Omegas, after all, somewhat rare but always prized. Life had been exceptionally kind to them and they thrived in the sheltered, exclusive environment that came with their wealth, status and good fortune. 

The Plutt School for Girls, centuries old and nestled in the Scottish highlands, was an establishment in which these girls were enrolled so that they might one-day make pretty ornaments for their no-doubt wealthy Alpha husbands, ornaments who might also be able to carry a conversation or discuss current events with muted intelligence. For an Alpha, they were told frequently, would knot any Omega. That was biology. But he would only mate with the best of the best Omegas. And Plutt’s was nothing if not famous for turning out the finest Omegas in the world.

In addition to rigorous training in elocution, etiquette, poise and dance, the girls were given a basic education in maths, English and science- enough to satisfy the current government mandate, at any rate- with special attention paid to French, German, Russian, Chinese and even Arabic. Plutt’s graduates, it was boasted, could be charming in any language. They were trophy wives in the making, still being polished to an alluring shine.

Sitting alone at the edge of the room, Rey bit her lip while she waited impatiently for her dinner. She was always hungry, ravenous in fact, though her appetite, that healthy hunger of an eighteen-year-old girl, was frowned upon. The food at Plutt’s was nutritious, but never satisfying. Ever watchful of their student’s waistlines, the school provided just enough calories to keep their Omega bodies healthy but their figures slim. When a plate of boiled chicken, steamed vegetables and a small portion of brown rice was put before her, Rey wanted to scream. 

She hated this place. Hated it with the burning passion of a thousand suns. 

She was late to Plutt’s, having only been enrolled when her natural aptitude for languages and her Omega status became clear. It hadn’t been her choice to come here, she’d been happy enough in the local state school near her children’s home. But Leia Organa-Solo was not a woman to argue with, and when she’d adopted Rey, striding into her life with her American brashness, supreme self-confidence and seemingly endless wealth, the eight-year-old Rey had been stunned into silence.

Picking at her chicken and rice, Rey wondered once again why Leia had ever adopted her. Han, Leia’s husband and Rey’s adopted father, had given her a nonchalant shrug when she’d queried him.

‘I don’t know, kid,’ he said in his lazy drawl, ‘But she did always want a girl.’

Of course, ten years later, Rey had filled in a few of the blanks for herself. Leia was a politician, a dedicated liberal who had high hopes of a presidential run in a few years. She’d been in London for a two-year posting as a foreign ambassador when she’d walked into Rey’s children’s home on a highly publicised visit, delivering toys and sweets to the homeless children, children who were either orphans or whose parents were incapable of caring for them. Or both, as in Rey’s case. 

When she’d placed a doll in Rey’s hands, Leia seemed genuinely touched when the little girl shook with restrained tears and gratitude. When Rey looked up, her hazel eyes swimming, Leia had nearly gasped.

‘Why, you’re a pretty thing, aren’t you?’ She took Rey’s face in her hands, turning her cheeks to catch the light. ‘You remind me of...’ she sucked in a breath, ‘so similar. It’s uncanny. You... you could be mine.’

When Leia returned just a week later, she came without any fanfare. No press, no publicist, no photographers. Her only companion was a grizzled, indifferent looking man who, to Rey’s fascinated horror, was missing a hand. This time there were no other children... just Rey, her social worker, Leia and this handless mystery, whose eyebrows raised ever slightly when presented with Rey. 

‘What do you think?’ Leia asked him.

He shrugged. ‘She’s an omega.’

‘Well obviously. You can smell it on her. But do you see the resemblance?’

The man looked at Rey intently. ‘I don’t know what you want out of this, Leia.’

‘She looks like our mother. It’s a sign.’

Rey thought she misheard. For how could it be possible that this scraggy man was related to the immaculately tailored Leia?

‘You never believed in signs before.’

‘I wasn’t looking for a child then,’ Leia bristled.

The man sighed. ‘You can’t just replace him, you know.’

A palpable silence seemed to fill the room, before Leia swallowed audibly. ‘I don’t want his name mentioned, Luke. He made his choice. I don’t want to hear of him. No, never again. But voters like a mother. Having a child...’ she paused. ‘Having the right child, will soften my Alpha image. This girl is perfect.’

‘What does Han say?’

‘You know Han always goes along with whatever I want.’

Luke shrugged again. ‘Betas,’ he muttered darkly. ‘I like Han, but you should never have married him.’

‘We work well enough together. He’s happy to tinker about with his planes and engines while I pursue my career. Besides, the voters like him. They see him as a salt of the earth kind... he appeals to industrial America.’

Luke gave a half-smile. ‘Han appeals to everyone,’ he said knowingly. ‘So do you, you know Leia. In fact, the voters like everything about you. Everything except-’

‘I told you, I don’t want his name spoken again,’ Leia’s voice was suddenly icy. She turned from her brother back to Rey, the ice thawing as she stared at the timid little girl. ‘Besides, that’s where this one comes in.’

And so Rey had been adopted into the Organa-Solo family. Six months after initially meeting Leia, Rey was flown first-class into New York, from where she was whisked north to the sprawling Organa-Solo estate. 

An announcement was made through Leia’s publicist, a short but succinct notice that Leia and Han Solo had adopted a British orphan, Reagan Organa-Solo, or ‘Rey’. The family were delighted, though they asked for privacy so that they could spend time getting to know their new Omega daughter. The press naturally had a field day, resulting in a surge of Leia’s popularity. It was, the papers declared, a fairytale come true for the loveless orphan.

Swallowing a mouthful of dry rice, Rey felt a sour rise of bile. For the fairytale aspect of her story had a bitter ending. Try as she might have, Leia was a natural politician but not a natural mother. And while she doted on Rey when she could, her career was a natural deterrent to any growing bonds between the pair. Leia was, to put it bluntly, always busy. Her career, particularly after being elected to the senate, left little time for the growing girl. Every few weeks Leia would take Rey on an outing, carefully timed to coincide with conveniently placed paparazzi. They would snap Rey at her riding lessons, Leia watching lovingly from the fence. They would catch an image of Leia taking Rey to the ballet, the loving mother pressing a kiss to her daughter’s hair as the excited child pointed to the stage. But the hard truth was that Leia actually spent little time with Rey, and Rey found herself spending most of her time with Han down at the hangar. 

In Han, Rey found a true parent. From the first day the lonely little girl wandered from the house to his hangar, where he kept a large collection of planes, Han took the child- both literally and figuratively- under his wing.

Rey and Han spent hours fixing old engines and restoring old planes to their original beauty. The private jet Leia kept for her political travels the two had no interest in. Instead, they spent their time tinkering with the likes of Han’s old Waco-10, his Lightning-38, his prized Mitsubishi Zero and a beautiful De Havilland Fox Moth, one of only eight surviving models, which Han gifted to Rey on her thirteenth birthday. 

‘She’s British, like you kid,’ he motioned to the plane, which Rey stared at, open-mouthed with shock. ‘Take good care of her.’

When they weren’t tinkering with the older planes, they were flying Han’s newer models. Rey started flying with Han aged nine, and by fourteen she piloted her first solo flight. Leia, home at the time, was furious.

‘You’re doing it again,’ she fumed at Han. ‘I have plans for her. You can’t risk her like that. It’s just like Ben all over again. You’re turning her into him.’

‘She’s nothing like Ben,’ Han returned, the Beta for once matching the Alpha Leia’s anger. ‘She’s nothing like him at all. Don’t say that.’

A screaming match followed which Rey closed her ears to. Han’s loyal engineer, Charlie ‘Chewie’ Baccan, the only personal staff he kept, took Rey by the hand to the main house, where he made her a peanut butter sandwich while showing her pictures of a new Diamond DA40 Han had his eye on. It was a distraction technique he seemed practiced at, and Rey suspected she was not the only child he had done this with.

Ben. Over the years she’d heard snippets about him, the Alpha son of Leia and Han who, for reasons Rey was never told, had been cut from the family entirely. There were no pictures of him in the house, and if he ever had a room there, it had long been emptied and redecorated. Rey’s only knowledge of him came from half-finished sentences, vague-hints of memories, and an underlying sadness to Han and Leia which Rey knew she could never fix. And that bothered her, for if her work with Han’s planes had taught her anything, it was that she could fix anything she turned her hand to. Machinery seemed to speak to her, just like any other language, but with rivets for words and wires for grammar. Rey knew she would never have the grace and poise of Leia, or a head for politics or books... but she knew machinery, and she knew languages. 

Rey pushed her empty plate away, suddenly feeling bereft. It had been three years, but the pain was as fresh as ever. For just after Rey turned fifteen, Han died. Leia refused to discuss the details with Rey, but Rey picked up that Han had crashed an old Cessna he’d been restoring, a plane which, by her reckoning, had been nowhere near air-worthy yet. She couldn’t understand why he’d ever taken to its cockpit when it was months away from being flyable. But Leia, pale with grief, refused to talk about it. 

‘I’m sending you to Scotland,’ she announced after the funeral, her eyes red-rimmed. ‘You need smoothing out, Rey. You’ve spent too much time with Han and Chewie. You could be so much more than a pilot, if you put your mind to it. Plutt’s is highly recommended for Omega girls. And when you graduate, you can help with my campaign.’

‘But I don’t want to go-’ Rey began, but Leia held up her hand, and the Omega in Rey instantly backed down.

‘I know. But I’m getting ready for the primaries and won’t have the time for you that you need. It’s only for a few years, Rey. Don’t look at me that way.’

And so here she was, being ‘smoothed out’ in Plutt’s miserable establishment, always hungry, always bored, always alone. 

For even her status as the Omega daughter of Leia Organa-Solo could not save Rey’s reputation for being awkward and difficult. The other Omega girls here wanted to talk about music and boys and clothes and the Kardashians. No one wanted to sit with Rey and discuss engine oil or aeronautical engineering.

Standing up and putting her empty plate on the tray at the end of the table, Rey went to head to her dorm when a hand fell upon her own. It was Unkar Plutt himself, and Rey’s skin crawled at the feeling of his flesh upon hers. Something, she knew instantly, must be very wrong if Unkar Plutt himself had come to find her.

‘Miss Solo, you’re wanted in the main office.’

Rey looked up in surprise. ‘The main office?’

‘Yes. You have a visitor.’

In three years, Rey had never had a visitor.

‘You must be mistaken,’ she heard herself reply coolly.

‘No. He asked for you particularly.’

‘He?’

‘Yes. He said he required you immediately. I tried to persuade him to return tomorrow... but he was most insistent.’

An Alpha. Rey heard the unspoken words by the Beta Plutt.

‘But there’s no one I know who could want to visit me.’

Plutt shrugged. ‘He said he was your brother.’

At that, Rey blanched. 

Her brother?


	2. The Picardie Collision

In 1922, a mail delivery service took off from Croydon Airport in England bound for France. The pilot was more than competent: a lieutenant who had served in the Great War, with an impressive flight record and a knack for navigation, even in adverse weather conditions. And on that April day, during the height of a rainy British spring, the weather was predictably bad.

A depressing mix of fog and rain equalled poor visibility and difficult flying conditions. Not that the pilot was unduly concerned; this was Northern Europe, after all, where fog and rain were not unheard of. Besides, he’d flown the channel many times, and by now was well acquainted with the thick, grey clouds so common to the English skies. 

But as he cleared the channel, turning south towards Paris, the cloud did not lift. And as this was 1922, few aircraft were capable of the making or maintaining the high altitude required to clear the fog. And so the pilot flew his De Havilland DH.18 at just 500 feet, following his coordinates to Beauvais without deviation. 

The aircraft was nearly at its destination when another plane appeared in the sky. It was a Farman F.60, named the ‘Goliath’. Appearing as if from nowhere in the thick cloud, there was no time for evasive action from either pilot. They were on a collision course, slamming into each other and breaking apart on impact, killing all involved.

It was the first collision between commercial airplanes ever recorded, and the reason Rey knew to always, always keep right when flying in the line of another aircraft. 

She does not stop to consider how strange it is that the Picardie Air disaster of 1922 comes to her mind when she first meets Ben Solo. But seeing him, this hulking, broad-shoulder and generally intimidating Alpha of a man, Rey has every feeling of being slammed into like the De Havilland DH.18 by a Goliath all of her own.

This is, she suddenly thinks, a collision course they were always on. She should have known they would one day meet, and just like that De Havilland, it has come out of the ether for Rey. She has no time for evasive action; no time to plan her emergency exit. And seeing the dark look in Ben Solo’s eyes as he takes her in, she suspects she could have really used one.

Ben sits forward in a low-backed chair, his elbows resting on his knees. Somehow, his haunched pose should have made him seem smaller, but it seems nothing can hide just how inordinately large this man is.

Black eyes flicker at her under long, raven locks. His face is angular and oddly shaped, but there is a beauty to it that surprises Rey. For such a large man, his features are almost delicate. He would have made an ideal Roman God, she surmises, with his patrician features and muscular frame. A God of fire perhaps, or even death.

She swallows hard at that thought, licking her lips timidly. Her hands are sweaty with nerves, and she wipes them on her tartan skirt. Next to Ben, in his dark grey sweater and slacks, she feels unbearably schoolgirl-ish and immature.

For a moment they simply look at one another, and then Ben gives a satisfied but ugly smirk.

‘Well, well, well. So you’re the little cuckoo in the nest,’ he looks her up and down slowly; his gaze unflattering and free of the admiration that was normally so easily afforded to attractive omegas. He then shakes his head. ‘You’re everything I thought you would be. Well, Leia was always a predictable creature. A predictable, pathetic creature.’

Rey, stunned, did not immediately catch Ben’s use of a past tense. But she did catch the open insult, and immediately stiffened in response. Leia, for all her faults, was still her mother after all. Or at least something close to it. 

‘Ben Solo dares to call Leia a creature? Really? It appears the irony is lost on you,’ she snaps in response.

Though Ben’s eyes flash with anger he makes no reply, continuing to stare at her openly. If he is surprised by her words he does not show it, simply regarding her with the same thinly veiled curiosity he has since she walked into the room. 

Rey does not begrudge him this; she knows he must be as curious about her as she is of him. And so she stares right back, gazing at Ben like he is a theatre show she has long held tickets for, or perhaps the chapter of a book she has always missed. She’s been curious about this man for so long that she cannot help but drink him in, the resolution to a long-held mystery suddenly appearing before her eyes. It is strangely intoxicating.

Finally, he shrugs. 

‘You understand, of course, that this isn’t a social call, Reagan.’

The use of her formal name, the name Leia gifted upon Rey on her adoption, calls her out of her stupor.

‘Rey,’ she replies, her throat dry. ‘It’s Rey.’

He nods, but his face remains unchanged. He doesn’t really care, she realises. Both she and her name are unimportant to him. 

He nods again. ‘I’m going to break this to you quickly. Leia’s dead.’

Rey sucks in a sharp breath. ‘What?’ 

‘Leia. She passed three days ago. Heart attack in her sleep. She didn’t suffer.’

Ben’s flippant, almost easy tone makes Rey clench her hands, a sharp jolt of anger hitting her before even a modicum of grief. 

‘I’m glad,’ she replies tightly, ‘she’d suffered enough already.’

At this Ben raises one quizzical eyebrow. ‘I take it by that loaded statement you are referring to me?’

‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ Rey retorts. ‘I meant Han.’

‘No,’ Ben’s reply is dark. ‘No, you didn’t. Let’s get one thing out right now, Rey- I have no toleration for lies and subterfuge. Say what you’re thinking, say what you’re feeling, no matter how bad it is. I don’t care. There’s nothing you can say to me that other people haven’t said before or won’t say again. Just don’t lie to me. Don’t even try. You’re an omega after all, and I’ll see right through you.’

Rey’s cheeks burn at this Alpha’s presumption. She doesn’t understand how it can be possible that her fists, already tightly balled, can clench even further. But they do, her knuckles showing white under her skin.

‘This,’ Ben continues blithely, ‘Is where you’re supposed to say ‘yes, Alpha’ so that we can carry on with our conversation.’

‘An omega only shows respect to an Alpha worthy of it,’ Rey’s reply is instantaneous, and as the words hang in the air she briefly feels sick, knowing that to offend an Alpha almost always invites trouble. But Ben does not growl or look affronted. Instead he gives her a slow, lazy smile. A smile loaded with amused malice.

‘Good girl,’ he says, and Rey wants to kick herself. For even in that small moment of rebellion, she was doing exactly what he asked of her. 

‘Why are you here?’ She asks him suddenly, wringing the fabric of her skirt in a damp, awkward hand.

‘I told you. Leia has passed,’ he replied. 

‘But why are you here?’ She presses again. ‘Chewie could’ve called me... or Kaydel... or somebody...’

Ben sighs. ‘You really wanted to hear this news from one of her staff?’ He asks pointedly, ‘Or by phone call? I’m sorry Rey, but I’m all the family you have left now.’

For a moment Ben lets that statement sink in. It becomes a lead weight in Rey’s stomach.

‘Besides,’ he carries on, ‘they don’t know yet. Leia was on a whistle-stop tour of Wisconsin when she died. She’d left Kaydel in New York and Chewie hasn’t left the Big House in years. One of her advisors- a man named Dameron- found her. I was listed as her next of kin, so they called me.’

Ben sees the look that crosses Rey’s face and nods. ‘I know, I was surprised too. I haven’t spoken to Leia since... well, what does it matter? I got your location from Dameron and hopped on the first red-eye to Heathrow,’ he glances at her again, taking in her cold expression and dry eyes. ‘I wanted to tell you face-to-face, before the press were informed. It crossed my mind that you might be upset.’

Rey immediately vows to never, ever cry in front of this man. 

Ben almost smiles at her sullen face. ‘But clearly not. It’s a good thing I like Scotch whisky, or this might have been a wasted trip.’

‘Thank you,’ Rey says coldly, but Ben shakes his head.

‘I don’t want your thanks. Only your cooperation.’

‘Cooperation?’

He stands up and Rey can hardly breathe. Because if he looked large sitting in that chair he now seems gargantuan. And the Omega- the damned Omega inside her- immediately wants to applaud Mother Nature for providing such a specimen of Alpha man. Forcing herself to take a deep, steadying breath, she reminds herself again that this is Ben Solo. Ben Solo, who did something so awful that Leia- and especially the kind-hearted Han- cut him from their lives entirely. 

Well, not entirely. Ben just said that he was listed as Leia’s next-of-kin, which Rey knew had been Han before his death. This means Leia must have updated her will after Han’s death to include Ben again. But why?

As if he could read her mind, Ben speaks. ‘I had a chance to look at Leia’s will on the flight from Kennedy. You should know that after some personal bequeaths, you are the sole beneficiary.’

Sole beneficiary. Rey’s head spins, but she does her utmost to stand still and straight, taking another deep breath. Ben’s eyes, so dark, are watching for her reaction intently.

‘But I... I thought you were next-of-kin... and...’

‘I was her next-of-kin. But only in an emergency contact, legal sort of context. So far as her estate is concerned, it’s all yours.’

Now she does sit, though fall might be the more appropriate term. Ben crouches next to her on the floor, not touching her, but still looking at her with that deep, impenetrable gaze.

‘There are some conditions applied that you need to be aware of, Rey. Do you need a moment, or should I continue?’

Now he does touch her, just a brush of his hand against her arm, and she visibly jumps. His hand is like a live wire on her skin, and at that moment, it’s too much for her brain to process. She all but shoves him away, and his face, which had momentarily softened, resumes it’s usual hardness.

‘I’m going to give you more time,’ he says stiffly. ‘I’ll come back tomorrow, when you’ve had time to process this news.’

But Rey looks up at him shakily. ‘What personal bequeaths?’

He shrugs. ‘There are some personal items she has gifted to Chewie, Kaydel and Dameron. The Big House and its contents are left to me to dispose of as I see fit. Everything else... the money, the foreign investments, the Californian vineyard and the French chateau... it’s all been left to you.’

Rey looks at him in shock. ‘You must hate me,’ she whispers.

He gives her a long, hard look. ‘I should hate you,’ he tells her. ‘You’re the girl I’ve heard so much about. The girl Leia replaced me with. Her little bit of light to fill the black hole I left on her familial résumé. The sweet little omega girl in place of the angry Alpha boy. Yes, I should hate you.’ Suddenly he stands, looming over her like both the monster of her childhood nightmares and the prince of her more recent, heat-inducing dreams. ‘But I don’t hate you. I told you, I don’t want anything from you but your cooperation.’

‘Why my cooperation?’ Rey asks, her voice wavering. ‘I suppose you expect me to sign my inheritance back to you? You must have excellent lawyers. Well, I was Leia’s child too and-’

‘No,’ Ben interrupts sharply, and now Rey does see anger in him. ‘Let’s get one thing clear right now: I was Leia’s child, you were simply her project.’

His words cut her deep and she pales. If he notices her distress he says nothing, simply returning to his chair and throwing himself back into it.

‘Conflict between us is pointless, Rey. I’m not your enemy, so don’t make me one. But let me state for the record: I have no desire for the Organa millions. I have my own money; I’m a wealthy man in my own right, and won’t fight you for the estate. But I told you that there were certain conditions attached to your inheritance, and in order to make this... this situation easier for the both of us, I suggest you listen to what I have to say.’

‘What conditions?’

Ben sits back to stare at her. ‘They’re simple, really. You can’t access any money without the approval of the trustees until you are twenty-five.’

‘That seems reasonable,’ Rey nods. 

Ben takes a sudden, deep breath. ‘Leia also stipulated that you have to remain under the legal care of a guardian until you turn twenty-one.’

‘Twenty-one?’ The normally independent Rey immediately feels a stirring of rebellion. ‘But the age of emancipation is eighteen, and..’

‘In the progressive United Kingdom, yes it is,’ Ben tells her. ‘But the U.S is a more conservative nation, and there an omega must remain under the legal care of a guardian until they are mated, married or twenty-one.’

‘Why twenty-one?’ Rey asks, instantly suspicious.

‘The statistics in the U.S show that most omegas are mated or married by then.’

‘God, how awful,’ Rey whispers, and Ben, the only Alpha in the room, has the grace to look almost ashamed.

‘It is what it is.’

Rey swallows hard. ‘Did Leia stipulate a...a...’ her mouth struggles to form the words. ‘Did she name the guardian?’

Now Ben swallows. ‘She did.’

‘Who?’

Rey vaguely wonders if she will be given over to Dameron, Leia’s advisor, and an Alpha on whom Rey had her first crush. Or perhaps Amilyn Holdo, her Godmother, who was vice-president of Resistance Inc, one of Leia’s companies. Of course, Luke is the most obvious choice, though Rey shudders at the thought of spending the next two-years milking cows on his farm up in Vermont. But then perhaps-

‘Me,’ Ben says abruptly, and Rey feels her blood turn to ice. ‘She named me.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a forced proximity romance. Kind of like a force bond, perhaps? 
> 
> The Picardie Collision of 1922 actually did happen, and is the reason pilots are trained to fly right in the event of a near-miss. It is also one of the reasons we have air routes and ATC. A little education with your Reylo today, folks.
> 
> I’m amazed by the response the last chapter had. Thank you so much for the compliments and kudos. See you Wednesday.x


	3. The Starkiller President

When Rey opens her eyes, it takes her a minute to adjust to her surroundings. For a moment she can’t understand why she is sleeping on a small, leather bed, a strap around her waist and the low hum of engines reverberating around her. There is a sharp pain under one of her ribs and she moves to relieve it, dislodging a large, hardback book from underneath her. It lands on the carpet with a loud thud and suddenly, a kindly-looking flight attendant is smiling down at her, a pot of fresh-brewed coffee in her hand. 

‘Oh good, you’re awake! And just in time for breakfast too.’

‘Breakfast?’ Rey repeats stupidly. ‘What time is it?’

‘4.43 GMT. But we’re three hours from JFK now so it’s technically 23.43.’

Rey sits up, pulling at the curtain next to her seat. Outside the oval window the midnight blue of the sky surrounds them, and from their cruising altitude of 36,000 feet (this is, for Rey, a hazy guess based on the aircraft and route they are flying) she can see the infrequent lights of what she assumes to be North Canada beneath them. She gives the attendant a look of disbelief.

‘You want to give me coffee in the middle of the night?’

The attendant’s bright face drops into a small frown at Rey’s tone. ‘Actually, your brother requested it for you. You’ve slept since we left Heathrow. He thought you might need something to eat and drink.’

Her brother. Suddenly Rey shifts in her seat, looking across the aircraft to where she last saw Ben. But he’s closed the partition door to his first-class seat and clearly wants his privacy. The flight attendant, following Rey’s gaze, leans in closer to her, her voice dropping to a conspiring whisper. 

‘Your brother is gorgeous,’ she says, leaning against Rey’s armrest. ‘I hope you don’t mind me asking, but is he single?’

‘What?’ Rey asks. Of course, she knows that objectively Ben is an attractive man. He could never be anything else. He is, after all, the product of Han and Leia. Han and Leia, who were both beautiful people throughout their lives, their looks only improving with age and experience.

But she also knows that he is Ben Solo, generally unpleasant, always sharp and insufferably overconfident. And she hates that the Omega within her, even restrained as she is by the heavy dose of suppressants Rey medicates herself with religiously, wants nothing more than to feel Ben’s hands on her skin again. 

‘Your brother?’ The attendant smiles again. ‘Is he single?’

Of course, this is the sort of thing a sister would know about a brother. But until two days ago Rey had never set eyes on Ben Solo before, and has no idea about any of the day-to-day details of his life. Not that she wants to know, she reminds herself sharply. But it would never do to tell the attendant that she and Ben are practically strangers, and so Rey answers with what she hopes is a non-incriminating choice of words.

‘He’s an Alpha,’ she shrugs, hoping that will deter any further conversation.

‘Yes, that’s obvious just by looking at him. But I suppose you mean that he plays the field?’ The attendant runs a finger along the handle of the pot in her hand. ‘Do you think if I gave him my number...’

‘Do what you like,’ Rey replies, instantly hating the attendant and then herself for feeling a pang of what might be- God help her- jealousy. ‘I’ll take that coffee now, please.’

‘Hmm?’ The attendant has a dreamy smile on her pretty face.

‘Can I have some coffee, please?’

‘Oh, of course,’ she reaches over for Rey’s cup, filling it halfway. ‘You can tell he’s fond of you. As soon as we were airborne and the Captain turned off the seatbelt sign he was up to check on you. Reclined your seat, drew your curtains and put a blanket on you when he found you out cold. That’s my job, you know, but today I didn’t mind letting him tend to you. I do like to see an Alpha in protective mode- it’s very sexy.’

‘Are you an Omega?’ Rey asks.

The attendant gives a reluctant shake of her head. ‘I wish I was! Sadly not though,’ she says with a deep sigh, and Rey is astounded that this woman, this Beta, might envy her Omega status, something Rey has always considered a yoke around her neck. ‘But that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate a good Alpha when I see a one though. You know how it is for us Betas.’

‘No, I don’t. I’m an Omega,’ Rey replies bluntly.

The attendant looks shocked. ‘Really? I would never have guessed.’

‘Well, it’s not like I wear a sign,’ Rey says drily. 

Not a sign that this Beta attendant could see, at any rate. But Rey knows that she gives off a scent, dulled as it is by her suppressants, that is discernible only to Alphas and other Omegas. A pheremonal marker indicating her fertility and availability, so that she can play in what is- and here Rey feels a deep torrent of distaste- essentially a biological version of tinder. She hates it when she sees eyes flicker over her in a crowd, the slight inclination of a head towards her that reminds her, once again, of exactly what she is.

The attendant chews on her lip awkwardly. ‘I know they’ll have asked at boarding, but...’

‘I have my safe-to-fly certificate,’ Rey finishes for her. ‘My suppressants are listed and up-to-date.’

‘Oh, okay,’ the attendant smiles at her brightly once more. ‘Well, I’m going to go refill your brother’s cup,’ she gives Rey a cheeky wink. ‘Wish me luck?’

‘With Ben Solo? You’ll need it,’ Rey replies, watching the attendant depart, fluffing her hair as she knocks on Ben’s door. 

Rey doesn’t want to watch. Closing her own door, she takes a sip of her coffee, wincing at the bitter taste on her tongue. She should’ve asked for some sugar. Rey loves sugar, though it was a forbidden product at Plutt’s, potentially ruining both the teeth and slim figures of the Omega girls. 

She suddenly gives a toothy grin. She’s on a plane headed towards the States, Plutt and his miserable school far behind her. She decides one day to use her new wealth to buy a bakery, or maybe a chocolate shop. Hell, she might even buy a whole sugar factory, though knowing Leia and her far-reaching empire, she probably already owns one.

She reaches down to pick up the book she dropped earlier. She’d bought it at Heathrow, her sudden access to whatever literature she desired almost too much to bear. So delighted was she by her unfettered choice, in fact, that she’d bought five hardbacks. Ben had watched her fill her basket with a deep scowl.

‘Are you sure you have enough?’ He’d asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

To spite him, she’d picked up a sixth.

She looked at the book in her hand again. ‘The Starkiller President’, by Kylo Ren. The shiny black cover, showing a bloodied American flag, has become somewhat marked after Rey’s impromptu nap on top of it. But still, she fingers the book almost reverently, feeling a delicious thrill at the weight of it in her hands. She’d wanted to read this book for a long time, but Plutt- who believed too much hard education could warp an Omega’s mind- had forbidden all but the basic classics in his school. And Leia, who’d once caught Rey looking at a Ren novel, had swiped it from her hands with a grimace.

‘Political thriller trash,’ she’d told Rey. ‘I don’t want that kind of book in my house.’

At the thought of Leia, Rey felt a sudden torrent of grief. After Ben had left her at Plutt’s two days ago, with instructions to pack and a promise that they would talk more later, Rey had staggered to her dorm and lain on her bed, clutching her pillow to her stomach. But the giggles and whispers from her roommates cut into her swirling thoughts.

‘Did you see the Alpha Plutt had in his office today? Honestly, I’ve never seen a man who looked and smelled so delicious...’

And so Rey retreated to the bathrooms, where she sat in the bottom of a shower unit and sobbed as the water washed over her face and onto the floor. Her tears were not particularly of sorrow, for what had she known of Leia, really? Leia had always been an untouchable force to Rey, a ruthless mix of intelligence, blind ambition, and a searing need just to do good wrapped up in her petite, beautiful form. No, Rey could not mourn Leia for what she had been to others. Let the nation cry for Leia the senator, Leia the diplomat and Leia the liberal crusader. 

But Rey could mourn Leia for what she might have been for her family. She would cry for Leia, the half-wife to Han, and for Leia, the almost-mother to Rey, and even, perhaps most especially, to Ben.

Ben again. When he’d arrived the next day to collect Rey from Plutt’s, his eyes raked over her in her dark, shapeless dress, her bag by her side and her face still, tears all spent.

‘Fuck,’ he’d exhaled, shaking his head. ‘How is it you look even younger out of your school uniform than you did in it?’

On the drive to Inverness Airport Ben remained silent, and Rey, not inclined to talk, did not press him for conversation. Only when their flight arrived at Heathrow did he speak again.

‘We’re booked onto the red-eye to JFK tonight. That’s eleven hours from now. I’ve decided to meet up with an acquaintance in town so I’ve reserved you a hotel room at the Radisson. I’ll meet you there at seven pm so we can make check-in.’

‘An acquaintance?’ She asked. ‘In London?’

‘Yes,’ he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘She’s an old... friend.’

Rey nodded, but whatever Ben thought of her, she wasn’t an idiot. She’d smelled the sudden spike in his pheromones, and knew, without being told, that Ben was meeting with this... this acquaintance, for more than just cake and tea.

She spent the next seven hours doing yoga on the floor of her hotel room, looking through her favourite aviation websites and trying her hardest not to think of Ben, and what he was doing this afternoon. Or, rather, who he might be doing this afternoon.

As seven pm drew closer, Rey showered and then stood in front of the mirror, looking closely at her reflection. She’d always been told she was a pretty girl, but next to the other girls at Plutt’s, she’d always felt out-of-place and awkward. The girls at Plutt’s had been petite and shapely blondes, or dark-haired sirens. Rey, with her very ordinary brown hair- uncoloured and unhighlighted- always felt plain and simple around them. But she was tall and thin, with gentle curves, and her face was bright, especially when she smiled. 

But still, Ben was right; she looked young. Her inexperience and immaturity were practically written in the dusting of freckles on her nose and in the hazel light of her eyes.

And so she’d pulled out the scant amount of make-up she owned, and set about lining her eyes and contouring her cheeks, as she’d been taught at Plutt’s. She tied her hair back and slipped on a simple pair of heels, impractical for the coming eight-hour flight, but giving her a much-needed boost of confidence. Ben might be attractive, she reasoned with herself, but then so was she, and this change in her looks, she naively believed, put them on an equal footing. When they next discussed her future- and it was hers, whatever anyone else said or thought- it would not be as schoolgirl and guardian, but as two adults with a vested interest in cooperating with one another.

And this particular Alpha had asked for her cooperation, after all.

She thought Ben might comment on the change in her appearance when he met with her at seven, but he only scowled and escorted her to the Virgin First-Class lounge, where they were seated for dinner before their flight. She tried to talk with him but he refused to engage, spending the entire hour of their meal looking at his phone or reading the newspaper an eager, full-lipped server had provided, her details slipped casually inside on a piece of paper. It irked Rey to see Ben pocket the number with almost indifference, actually looking over Rey to where the server leaned against the reception desk, her curvy legs squeezed into a skin-tight pencil skirt, her tastefully open blouse just revealing the tops of her large, high breasts.

So that was the kind of girl Ben Solo liked then; a girl who looked- emphatically- nothing like Rey. Not that she cared, Rey reminded herself violently. It was nothing to her who this Alpha took to his bed. Or who he chose not to take to his bed.

With a huff, Rey downed the last of her wine and stood, unwilling to sit with Ben another minute. She marched to the cafe area of the lounge, dropping into a chair by the window, and settled back to watch the planes coming and going from the Airport, a welcome distraction.

She loved Heathrow and everything about it, astounded as always that the U.K ran a thriving, international, one-plane-every-thirty-seconds airport on infrastructure that Han Solo would’ve scoffed at. The planes might have changed but Heathrow still had that 1960’s, golden age of passenger aviation feel about it. And it was home, after all. Even when living in the States with Han and Leia, Rey had always been gladdened by the sight of a plane with a British Airways insignia in the sky above her. In a way the planes were like her: nomadic and ungrounded, but always directed by others, dipping in and out of ports to suit the needs of the world around them. 

Rey grit her teeth. Not anymore. She would make her future her own, whatever anyone else tried to tell her.

A Virgin Atlantic pilot, clearly an Alpha, had approached Rey and opened a conversation with her. Rey was always keen to pick the minds of other pilots, even though she herself hadn’t flown since Han’s death. And so she talked and smiled and at one point even laughed, the sound carrying across the lounge. Not a moment later, Rey felt a firm hand on her shoulder.

She immediately tensed while her skin treacherously tingled. 

‘We should get going,’ Ben said, his voice tightly controlled, mostly concealing an underlying anger, though his scent... Rey almost recoiled, for Ben’s scent suddenly contained a dangerous note to it. He was all but screaming at the other Alpha to back off.

‘Yes,’ Rey nodded. She’d turned back to the pilot, who gave her an understanding smile. ‘It was nice to meet you, Finn,’ she said politely, before Ben all but carried her away.

‘You didn’t have to do that,’ she hissed as they made their way through the terminal. ‘He was just being nice to me, and-’

‘Rey, Alpha’s are never just nice to Omegas. Didn’t you learn anything up in that fancy school of yours?’

‘Apparently not,’ she snapped. ‘Basic human interaction and manners wasn’t a subject they had time for between all the etiquette training and dance classes.’

Ben rolled his eyes at her sarcasm. ‘What happens between an Alpha and Omega is anything but basic human interaction, Rey. And God help you if you set an Alpha off into a rut. See where your polite British manners get you then.’ He leaned in closely to her, his voice falling to a soft but threatening whisper. ‘An Alpha trying to knot you won’t just settle for a ‘no, thank you’ and a cup of tea and a cookie. No, they’ll want a bite of a very different slice of cake.’

Rey stood back from Ben, her head held high. ‘Well, it’s a good thing I’m not a cookie or a slice of anything else sweet then. I’m a tough old British biscuit and I’m hard to break. Those Alpha’s should watch their teeth.’

Ben regarded her for a moment, before nodding. ‘Good. See that it stays that way and you’ll make my work for the next two years much easier. For both of us.’

‘We haven’t even agreed that you’ll be my guardian yet,’ Rey reminded him.

‘What, you really want to wear home-spun robes while enjoying the rustic life with Skywalker in Vermont? I told you, we’ll talk about all this after the funeral. Let’s just get through the next week and try and be... I don’t know, civil to one another.’

Once they’d boarded the aircraft he’d deposited her in her seat before taking to his own, making a point by closing the door. After take-off Rey immediately turned to the window, bringing out her Kylo Ren novel and trying to concentrate on the words before her.

She’d been asleep in two minutes. 

Now, Rey opened the book again. This time, fully awake and in a better mood for her sleep, she became rapidly engrossed, her coffee growing cold beside her. The same flight attendant who had spoken with her earlier returned with a plate of pancakes, which Rey looked at eagerly before the attendant gave a happy smile.

‘He took my number,’ she said excitedly, nodding in Ben’s direction before returning to the galley.

Of course he did. Rey, her stomach suddenly sour, pushed her pancakes away, telling herself that it was only because they didn’t have any syrup and not because-

‘Good book?’ Ben’s voice broke into Rey’s thoughts and she turned towards the sound. He was crouched in the aisle next to her, somehow still absurdly large, indicating to the Kylo Ren novel in her hand.

‘Yes,’ Rey said, before putting the book to one side. ‘Ben, can I ask you something?’

He nodded. 

‘What you said earlier, back at Heathrow, about Alphas and Omegas... well,’ Rey suddenly blushed. ‘How will this work... you know, between you and I? I’m an Omega and you’re very clearly an Alpha and...’

Ben’s face was serious. ‘Rey, are you on suppressants?’

She blushed even deeper. ‘Yes, of course, but-’

‘Then it won’t be a problem.’

‘But we aren’t really brother and sister and our biology-’

‘I told you,’ Ben said slowly, ‘It won’t be a problem.’

‘How can you be so sure?’ She asked.

He looked deep into her eyes. ‘I can be sure for two reasons. One: I’m also on suppressants. Strong ones. And two...’ he paused, as if suddenly uncertain about whether or not he should continue. Rey saw the conflict written across his face.

‘And?’ She pressed, deeply curious.

He took a deep, resigned breath. ‘And because I don’t fuck Omegas. Not anymore. Never again.’ He looked her over once more, and if there was regret in his eyes, he hid it well. ‘Rey, whatever else I am, know this: you’re absolutely safe with me. Completely and utterly. And at this moment in time, I’m the only Alpha in the world you can say that about.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course I wasn’t going to forget Kylo Ren or Finn in all of this! Posting earlier this week as am going away later on and might not have had a chance to update. 
> 
> I’m loving all the comments and compliments- thank you so much.
> 
> See you Sunday.xx


	4. You Need a Teacher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I just get the phrase ‘socio-economic spectrum’ into a Reylo fanfic? I think I did.

Rey has vague recollections of her birth parents, though she tries not to dwell on them. They weren’t pleasant people and so they aren’t pleasant memories, more a kaleidoscope of images and feelings of pain, hunger and fear. 

She remembers being three and sitting on the lap of a woman she assumes to be her mother. They live in a London high-rise that is always damp and cold, on the Jakku housing estate, where hopes and dreams go to die. Her mother is young, just a teenager herself, and an Omega like Rey, though her scent is covered by the cigarettes she smokes and the sweet, sparkling wine of which she is so fond. Rey’s father is a Beta and always between jobs. He smells of nothing but cheap booze and cheap perfume, and he is as easy with his fists as he is with whatever money he can scrounge from others. 

Rey, at just three, has learned to be scared of her father. And with good reason, for in this memory he enters the room and immediately hits her mother for not topping up the electric. By default, he also hits Rey, for she falls to the floor along with her mother, cracking her cheekbone on the coffee table.

Rey learns it is best to hide from her father, a survival instinct gained from a babyhood full of violence. Conversely, she also learns to cling to her mother. For when her mother is sober she does what she can for Rey, tending to the little girl’s needs with the unpracticed imperfection of an unnatural mother. But when she isn’t sober...

Rey recalls a day when she woke in her bed, which wasn’t even really a bed but a pile of sheets on the floor of her parent’s room, to find her mother passed out cold next to her. Her father is smoking in the living room with some mates of his from the pub, and Rey tiptoes past them all to retrieve her apple juice from the fridge. But the juice is long gone and Rey is very, very thirsty. So she decides to chance asking her father for more. Still an infant, Rey is already practiced in risk analysis, and she decides her thirst takes precedence over her fear. 

She begs her father for a drink, her voice still tinged by a childish lisp. He takes a long drag on his smoke, considering her request, before laughing at her. ‘Here you go, pet,’ he grins, as he pours a sweet, sparkling, alcoholic cider into her battered sippy cup. She gulps the drink back and then promptly vomits all over the carpet. 

Her father breaks her arm for that.

One day her father kills her mother and the police take Rey away. A woman from social services gives the thin, dirty and bruised Rey a lollipop as they examine her injuries.

‘You’re going to be okay, Rey,’ she says, her voice wavering. ‘We’ve got you. You’re safe now.’

‘No,’ little-girl-Rey replies. ‘I want my Mummy.’

‘You’re safe,’ the woman repeats, as though it is a mantra. In truth, there is nothing else she can really say. ‘You’re safe now.’

It takes a long time for Rey to stop asking for her mother, but eventually she does, understanding over time that she is never coming back. It is a bitter pill for any child to swallow, but little Rey soon learns that in a world where you are unwanted and unloved, you are essentially alone. She is offered pity but not affection, she is given charity but not love. Soon she can stomach neither, preferring to be ignored in the shadows than face good-natured apathy.

Safe is a feeling she is unused to, rarely ever feeling it again. Even when she’d left London and all the foster homes and children’s homes behind her, even when she was living in unparalleled wealth with Leia and Han, even from her gilded cage of Plutt’s school, Rey is waiting for the next blow to strike, for her house of cards to fall. She is always on edge, ever alert and generally scared. Her body might have grown and her circumstances have definitely changed, but inside the woman Rey still resides little-girl-Rey, living in fear, waiting for her mother or any other caregiver who will love her enough to put her first. Her birth mother put cheap booze before her child while Leia had her politics, but to Rey they were essentially the same: both women addicted to the highs their choices gave them, just on different ends of the socio-economic spectrum.

Safe is a word Rey is unused to. 

But not with Ben. 

When he tells Rey that he doesn’t fuck Omegas and that she is safe with him, she believes him. His voice is rich and comforting; his eyes are serious and honest. He is an Alpha that doesn’t fuck Omegas, and she is safe. Her body is wired to respond to the smooth, deep tone of his voice and she immediately feels peace wash over her. Momentarily she relaxes, nodding at him quietly, her eyes locked with his.

She is safe with him and it is liberating. She is safe with him and it is calming. She is safe with him and it is warming.

It is also, she suddenly realises, wildly infuriating.

Because perhaps she doesn’t want to be safe with him. Perhaps she doesn’t want to be treated so reasonably by him. Perhaps she wants him to be an Alpha that does fuck Omegas. Perhaps she wants him to fuck her.

That particular thought hits her like an unwelcome ton of bricks and she stiffens, breaking eye contact with Ben and looking back at her book.

‘Why?’ She asks quietly. ‘Why don’t you... well, you know...’

Now he looks away from her. Away from her and towards that Beta flight attendant who, spying his gaze upon her, smiles brightly.

‘Does it really matter why?’ He replies. ‘I used to. An Alpha and an Omega together... actually, the right Alpha and Omega together... it can be a beautiful thing.’

Heat floods into Rey’s cheeks at his words, and she bites her lip. 

But then Ben gives a nonchalant shrug. ‘But for me, it got to a point where it stopped being beautiful and became something quite ugly. Almost monstrous in fact. So I stopped.’

‘But you have your... acquaintances,’ Rey says, unable to hide the accusatory note to her voice.

Ben nods. ‘Yes, I have my acquaintances. And they are all Betas, all willing, and all over the age of twenty-one.’ 

‘But aren’t you ever tempted by-’ Rey starts, before the words freeze on her lips. Because Ben is giving her a long, searching look, a look so deep she is certain he can see into her soul. She swallows the rest of her question down.

His hand clenches on her armrest, and there is a new, determined fire to his voice. ‘I don’t allow myself to be tempted, Rey. The women I meet with... my acquaintances... they adequately keep any Alpha urges I have at bay. That’s why I fuck so many of them-’ He stops, and takes a deep breath. ‘I don’t deviate from them, Rey. Do you understand?’

She knows what he is trying to tell her. The subtext of their conversation comes across loud and clear. He fucks Beta women so he won’t fuck Omegas, and he’s going to keep fucking lots of them so that he’ll never be tempted by her. He’s an Alpha who could take what he wants from her, but he won’t. Rey understands. 

She understands, but at that moment- so close to this intoxicating Alpha- she doesn’t have to like it. 

She picks up her book again, ignoring Ben, who is still crouched beside her. 

‘Rey-’ he says, and she looks at him. He swallows hard as their eyes lock together. ‘Rey, I-’

A high-noised ping hisses through the cabin as the captain turns on the seatbelt sign, and then a flight attendant- the same flight attendant who gave Ben her number- is next to him in a flash. She lays a perfectly manicured hand on his shoulder.

‘I’m sorry, Mr. Solo, but the Captain has turned on the seatbelt sign and I’m going to have to ask you to return to your seat. There’s turbulence ahead.’

Ben has yet to take his eyes from Rey, keeping them on her even as he stands. Rey is reminded once again of just how big this man, this Alpha is, and she can’t help but wonder what that weight would feel like upon her. She can’t help but think about how pleasant it would be to lose herself in all that strength, smell, and self-imposed restraint. And her mouth goes dry when she thinks about how good it would be when that restraint finally melted into gratification and pure indulgence.

‘There’s turbulence ahead,’ Ben repeats, without looking away. ‘You should buckle up, Rey.’

And then he turns and is gone, leaving her to her book and the bumpy ride ahead.

***

Rey is standing and stretching when she hears Ben give a loud oath from across the cabin. They landed at JFK twelve minutes ago and taxied to their gate, where the doors have just opened. 

‘Fuck!’ She hears him yell again, and she turns to give him a filthy look. There are other people in the cabin after all, though no children, thankfully. But given that none of their neighbours appear to be attractive women- Betas, willing, and over the age of twenty-one, Rey reminds herself bitterly- Ben hardly seems to acknowledge them. 

‘The press know,’ he exhales at her. ‘I just had a message from Dameron to say that there are a gaggle of photographers and reporters waiting for us at JFK. Fuck.’

‘Why are they waiting for us?’ Rey asks. 

‘A senator on a likely presidential course has just died. And not just any senator, but Leia Organa-Solo. You know who her father was- her real father, Rey, not Bail Organa. The interest in this story will be huge.’

Rey looks at Ben blankly, and his mouth falls open.

‘They did it to you too,’ he whispers in disbelief, shaking his head slowly. ‘They didn’t tell you either. I shouldn’t be surprised, but- Jesus Rey, haven’t you ever heard of google?’

‘We had limited access to the internet at Plutt’s,’ Rey replies testily. ‘And just what was I supposed to google?’

Ben looks around, before coming to stand at Rey’s side. The heat in his eyes and in his body is intense, and he must sense that Rey means to move away, because he reaches out and takes her hand.

‘Like you, Leia was adopted. She was raised by Bail Organa and his wife- Bail Organa, head of the Alderaan Motor Company. But her parents- her birth parents- were actually a Senator from Vermont and Vader.’

‘Vader?’ Rey replies vacantly, before a memory stirs within her and her mouth falls open. ‘You mean Vader as in Vice-President Darth Vader? Who served in the Palpatine administration?’

‘Yes.’

‘But Vader drove the Alderaan Motor Company into the ground... thousands of jobs were lost... the whole state suffered... why would he do that to the people raising his child?’

‘Because he didn’t know. His affair with Senator Amidala would have ended his career and hers. So when she got pregnant she ended it and covered the whole thing up. Married an old friend of hers- a Japanese ambassador by the name of Kenobi- and moved to Tokyo. She had Luke and Leia there in secret but died in childbirth. Kenobi ended up giving Leia to Bail Organa and Luke to Vader’s step-brother.’

‘His step-brother? But didn’t Vader question that?’

‘No,’ Ben gave a rueful smile. ‘No, he just assumed Luke was Owen and Beru’s natural child. He even sent a gift-basket.’

‘When did he find out?’ Rey asked, almost speechless.

‘Luke found out first, actually. Just after he joined the military, during his first tour of Korea. He spent some time with Kenobi in Japan... It was after that the pieces of the puzzle started to come together. He worked out who his father was, and then found out he had a twin sister. But by this point Vader had destroyed the Alderaan Motor Company and Leia wouldn’t have anything to do with him. Luke...’ Ben shrugged. ‘Poor Luke was always pulled between them. But even he sided with Leia, eventually. They tried to keep the whole thing quiet- especially after Vader died- but when Palpatine was finally indicted some of Vader’s papers were released and the press had a field day. I was nine and they hadn’t even told me. I came out of school one day to find a hoard of paparazzi waiting for me at the gates. And Leia...’ Ben swallowed. ‘Leia didn’t come to get me.’

Rey stands still. ‘The day I met Luke,’ she spoke quietly, ‘Leia told him that I looked like their mother. I always assumed she met Breha Organa, and when I saw a picture of Breha in Leia’s office I couldn’t understand why she thought we looked alike. Breha was so fair and soft and I’m... I’m so tall and bony and-’

‘You’re beautiful,’ Ben abruptly interrupts her. ‘You’re beautiful, Rey. Just like Senator Amidala was.’

Rey paused, licking her lips. ‘What do we do now then?’

‘I’m going to arrange some security to get us past the press. You should know that they’ll be vicious, Rey, especially for pictures of you. And when they work out who I am...’

He stops, looking at Rey with deep concern. ‘What is it?’ She asks gently. Strange that just twenty-four hours ago, she never thought she would be gentle with him.

‘They might...’ he pauses. ‘They might say some things... unpleasant things... to get our attention. Especially about me. Just keep your head down and don’t rise to the bait. Stay by my side.’

‘What sort of unpleasant things? What will they say about you?’ Rey asks hurriedly, but Ben says nothing, simply draping his coat over her shoulders. It is long, black- and on Rey’s thin form- entirely shapeless.

He ignores her question. ‘I don’t want them looking at you,’ he says fiercely. ‘The less they see of you, the less they photograph, the better for you. The better for us both.’

Rey nods. Safe, she reminds herself. She is safe with this Alpha.

It takes forty minutes for JFK to muster together a small team of security to escort Rey and Ben from customs, but Rey has to wonder why they even bothered. For not one of the security officers can match Ben for height or strength, and even though the officers are armed, Rey still instinctively creeps closer to Ben’s side. 

As she moves towards Ben, one of the officers reaches out for her, stroking her arm as she passes him by. In the enclosed space of the gate, Rey can smell his interest in her. It is hot and spicy and vaguely unpleasant. Arousal, she suddenly realises in genuine surprise.

After three years in the Omega domain of Plutt’s, where Alphas were restricted to the main office so as to preserve the safety and virtue of the Omega girls, it’s the oddest thing for Rey to realise that she can actually smell the presence of an Alpha man, and that she can detect his interest in her. Out of sheer curiosity she inhales deeply, drinking his scent in further, wanting to learn more. But she must be unwittingly emitting an interesting scent of her own, because the officer immediately steps forward, reaching out for her again, and-

It happens so fast that Rey almost doesn’t see it. Just as the officer’s hands are about to make contact, a strong pair of arms hauls him away and slams him against the partition wall. He lands with a sickening thud so violent that the wall shakes. 

‘Keep your fucking hands off of her,’ Ben snarls, his hands wrapped around the officer’s throat. The man struggles to breathe under Ben’s grip, desperately fighting against the assault. His skin begins to turn a nasty shade of puce, and Rey feels ill.

‘Ben,’ she says firmly. ‘Ben, let him go.’

But wherever Ben is at that moment- the Ben she is gentle with, the Ben she is safe with, not this monster with black eyes and death in his grip- it isn’t with her. This Ben is holding the luckless officer with absolute hatred written across his features, a cold certainty in his gaze. And Rey knows- she just knows- that if he isn’t stopped soon, Ben will kill this man. He will kill him, just for daring to touch her.

Rey finds that idea unbearable. She doesn’t want any man to die for her, not when her mother already has. 

‘Ben. Put him down,’ she says again, her voice cold.

Slowly, Ben removes his hands, and the man slides to the floor. The other security officers rush to his assistance, while Ben turns to Rey, his eyes still black, his breathing heavy. 

‘Ben,’ Rey exhales. ‘What the hell was that?’

But when he steps towards her his eyes are still blown black with rage, his hands shaking with the undisguised effort of controlling his emotions. Rey takes a wary step back, but meets the wall, blocking her exit. Ben, slowly and without deliberation, puts a hand to each side of her face, effectively pinning in her place. He lowers his face until his forehead is against hers, his lips a whisper against her skin.

‘Every Alpha out there will be able to note your availability,’ he said, his voice a dark sneer. ‘You don’t know anything about this at all, do you? Hidden away at Plutt’s... you know nothing about what your scent... about what your body does to those Alphas?’

‘Those Alphas,’ Rey whispers back, ‘But not you.’

‘No,’ Ben says. ‘I feel it too. But the difference is that I choose not to act upon it.’

Rey nods, though Ben takes her face in his hands, stopping the movement. ‘You need a teacher,’ he says. ‘You need to know who you are. And how to handle it.’

He turns her face to one side, almost reverently. ‘But for now, if you’re to have any chance of making it through those photographers alive, let’s take care of one thing.’

Rey doesn’t have time to consider his words before he licks her. 

He licks her, making a hot, long stripe up along her neck, until he meets with the scent gland behind her ear. 

Rey can’t help the moan that comes unbidden from deep within her, and as if spurred on by her noise, Ben gently nibbles on her gland, so that frissons of pleasure run through her. He turns her head and does the other side, and Rey is almost certain that she has stopped breathing, that she will never breathe evenly again. 

When he turns her face back to his, she sees the same rasping breath on him. But his eyes are no longer black with rage, lit now only by something akin to contentment. Contentment... and sheer pleasure.

‘At least now you’ll make it through the airport without anyone mauling you,’ he says, his voice dripping with satisfaction. And as if to prove a point, he licks her one more time, this time cutting a stripe down her chest.

‘I thought... I thought you didn’t fuck Omegas,’ Rey whispers desperately, though she is one heartbeat away from begging him to continue.

‘I don’t,’ he replies. ‘I told you Rey, I’m not going to fuck you. But I’m also going to make damn sure no one else fucks you either. At least not on my watch.’

Rey’s body might be crying for his hands and mouth to continue, but his words give her mind a sudden rebellious streak. ‘I can take care of myself,’ she tells him, using every inch of her willpower to step away from him, to break whatever this is between them.

But Ben’s face wears a mask of dark challenge. 

‘We’ll see,’ he tells her. ‘We’ll see.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More about planes in the next instalment, because I love aeronautical engineering Rey. Thank you so much for all the compliments... honestly this is such fun, and I’m so thankful for all the feedback. See you Wednesday.x


	5. Hosnia Prime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, there is some Damerey. But this is a Reylo fic, so stay with me.

If ever there was a knight in shining armour in Rey’s life, it was Poe Dameron. Smooth-skinned, smooth-mannered and generally likeable, Poe was the epitome of charm, blessed with wholesome good-looks and a smile that could melt butter. 

He swept into Rey’s life the week after she arrived in the States, when she was still shy of Leia and Han and bewildered by all the obscene changes to her life. She’d gone from a penniless British orphan to the only daughter of a wealthy American couple in the space of just a few weeks, and she was still dizzy from her rapid social climb. ‘I am lucky,’ Rey whispered to herself, clutching her battered doll tight to her chest while shedding morose tears. The doll was missing an eye and a leg, a remnant from a hard scrape at the children’s home, but it was all that Rey had left of her former life, and neither Leia nor any of her staff could pry the sad toy from Rey’s hands. ‘I am lucky,’ she told herself again, though at that moment- homesick, jet-lagged and overwhelmed- she felt like the unluckiest child ever.

Rey’s British social worker had impressed upon Rey again and again just how fortunate she was. The older woman described the United States in hushed, respectful tones as a land of promise, wealth and democracy, a sort of Blake’s Jerusalem, or perhaps Virgil’s Arcadia. She made it abundantly clear to Rey that she thought the child undeserving of her sudden good fortune, and that Leia- who could have had her pick of children- had made a terrible error in her choice of daughter. These thoughts, terrible though they were, were conveyed in a misguided attempt to ensure Rey arrived at her new home docile, submissive and grateful. Instead, she arrived bereft and in tears.

Rey was accustomed to harshness and cold behaviour. She was used to indifference and apathy. So the social worker’s words, hard and mean-spirited, ran off Rey like water on a windshield, leaving only the smallest of residues on her outlook of life. Rey would not cry because of a few mean words; why would she, when they were all she knew? No... Rey’s tears, when she did arrive in New York, were the tears of absolute loss and resignation. But the loss was not of her home, the other children, or any of the paltry possessions she had to her name, all of it given in half-hearted charity. 

Rey’s loss was more personal than that. For back at the children’s home, on the dusty shelf by her bed, Rey had kept a few potted plants. They were plants she had grown from seed herself, her own little bit of green in the grey expanse of London, and she had been distraught to be told that she could not take them with her to her new home. She’d sobbed into her blanket, certain that the other children would destroy her precious, green babies, or that the social worker would bin them the moment she left for her new home. Leia, on being told why the child cried incessantly, had frowned in genuine concern.

‘We have a whole garden, Rey,’ she’d told her, full of good intentions. ‘I’ll buy you all the plants and seeds you like.’

Rey had only cried harder, until the worn, faded blanket she carried was sodden with salt and tears. For whatever seeds Leia provided, whatever plants they became, they wouldn’t be the flowers Rey mourned for.

When Poe met Rey, his dog Bebee by his side, he’d immediately crouched to her height and smiled at her. ‘You’re too pretty a thing to cry like this,’ he’d said. ‘What bothers you, sweetheart?’

But Rey, shy again, ducked her head. 

Poe was undeterred. A political advisor, he’d worked with Leia for years, and he knew how to talk to people. He knew how to bend them to his side. And at that moment, he let Rey feel the full force of his charm.

‘This is Bebee,’ he told her, indicating to the Labrador by his side. ‘I found him at the pound. Do you know what a pound is?’

‘Money,’ Rey replied, and Poe had laughed, deep and sincere.

‘Well, here it’s different. A pound is where they keep dogs who don’t have a home. Bebee didn’t have a home until he came to live with me. He was a stray.’

‘Like me,’ Rey said, but this time Poe didn’t laugh. He and Leia exchanged a look, before Poe sighed and offered Rey Bebee’s leash.

‘Can you hold him for me for a moment, Rey? Just while I talk to your mother... I mean, while I talk to Leia here?’

Rey had never been allowed near dogs before, though like any child she was desperately interested in them. Mesmerised, she reached for the leash, before realising she could not hold both the leash and her battered doll at the same time. Gingerly, she placed her doll on the floor, taking the leash and then reaching a hand out to stroke the soft fur on Bebee’s back.

It was to Poe that she gave her first smile on American soil, and while Leia gasped in delight, Poe only nodded back at her. ‘You and Bebee are going to be good friends, I see.’

But Rey saw Poe infrequently. Like Leia, he was always on the go, a phone attached to his hand, a retinue of people following him like busy worker bees. Even so, he always made time to smile at Rey, and he would often leave Bebee with Rey and Han down at the hangar while he and Leia worked up at the Big House. 

A year after Rey’s arrival, when she and Han were refitting an old bi-plane with parts Rey scavenged from the wreckage of other aircraft, Poe made his way down to the hangar, Bebee at his side and a box in his hand. He’d nodded at Han before making his way down to the plane, where he found Rey flat under the old engine, covered in grease and oil.

‘Hello, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘Present for you.’

Rey wiped her hands on a towel, genuinely interested. Poe was dressed down that day, wearing an old red jacket and jeans instead of the suit and tie Rey normally saw him in. His hair was slightly mussed and there was a twinkle in his eye. He pushed the box towards Rey.

‘For me, really?’ She asked as she opened the box, for even a year after her move from the children’s home, she still struggled to believe she was deserving of gifts, love and affection.

When she opened the box, Rey’s eyes filled with tears and her mouth opened in shock. Han, curious, came over to look and gave Poe a questioning glance when he saw Rey weeping over a crate full of plants.

‘They’ve been in quarantine for the last year,’ Poe explained. ‘Don’t worry, they’ve been well looked after and-’

His words were cut off by Rey’s arms, as she enveloped him in a full blown hug. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you,’ she whispered into his chest. ‘I never thought for a moment that... just, thank you. Thank you.’

Poe, a man of words, was for once speechless.

And of course, Rey fell madly in love with Poe at that moment. 

He quickly became her first crush, and one that continued until the day she left for Plutt’s. Whenever he walked into the room, Rey would fall tongue-tied and speechless, her cheeks blushing fast. If he came for dinner with the family, Rey would sullenly push her food around her plate, her voracious appetite swallowed up by her nervousness while Han and Chewie smirked at her. She hated every girlfriend or boyfriend Poe brought to meet them, and walked Bebee more miles than the old dog required or wanted, simply so she had a reason to speak with him.

Leia was no fool, and must have known of Rey’s developing feelings for her closest advisor. But she said nothing to Rey, not even when she turned thirteen and was prescribed her first box of suppressants. 

But Rey did overhear Han talking about it once. Once, just before he died. ‘He’s an Alpha,’ Han said gruffly to Chewie. ‘Oh, I like him. Everyone likes him. But Rey’s only going to get older and prettier and Poe will charm her like he charms every other Omega out there.’

Chewie’s response was muffled by the whir of a drill. 

‘Leia doesn’t mind. She trusts Poe more than she trusts me. She says we need to let it run its course... says that we don’t want Rey to end up like- well, you know. When you try to stop it, it just makes it worse.’

Rey heard Han give a long sigh. 

‘We interfered once before, and look what happened. God forbid we go through that again. Well, so long as Poe keeps his Alpha tendencies away from Rey, we just have to let it go.’

It was Poe, in the end, who put Rey on a plane back to the UK when her term was to begin at Plutt’s. He still wore black for Han, and he’d looked at Rey sadly as he passed over her passport and boarding card. 

‘See you in a few years, sweetheart,’ he’d said. ‘I’ll watch those plants for you.’

‘I’ll be eighteen when I come back,’ she told him, her stomach fluttering when she saw the spark of interest in his eyes. For while they had both been pretending for years now that Rey wasn’t attracted to Poe, just recently, they had also started pretending that Poe wasn’t becoming attracted to Rey. 

‘It’s a good age,’ Poe nodded, his voice soft. ‘See you again, sweetheart.’ 

He’d kissed her then, just a soft press of his lips on hers, but it was enough- just enough- to feed Rey’s adolescent fantasies throughout her years at Plutt’s. Fantasies that involved chaste kisses and cuddles, windswept romance and fluttering hearts... but fantasies that also stopped entirely at the bedroom door. For Rey was yet to feel that pull of true sexual attraction, yet to desire the feel of a man’s naked body against her own. She’d read of intercourse and knotting with a feeling not of desire but of disbelief, uncertain she would ever want anyone to do that to her. Her innocent fantasies had always been more than enough to satisfy her needs. 

Or at least they had been, until just a few days ago.

They had been, until Ben.

So when Ben hauled her into a waiting car outside JFK with a growl, more beast than man in that moment, the paparazzi pushing and pressing into the expanse of his back, Rey felt a thrill of both true desire and true fear. And when Ben slammed the door on her, banging on the roof of the car for it move, before disappearing into the crowd of photographers, Rey felt a moment of loss. And when Rey turned forward to see Poe Dameron sitting across from her, looking at her with hope, happiness and unbearable sadness, she felt a moment of anger. 

‘Rey, I’m so sorry,’ Poe began, as the car began to weave it’s way from the airport. ‘If I’d known he was going to hop on the first red-eye to get you, I would never have told him where you were. And if I’d known the paparazzi would be in wait like this, I would’ve prepared for your arrival. And if...’

But Rey wasn’t in the mood for what might have happened just then. Her interest was only for what had happened. At that moment, adrenaline and a thousand tumultuous feelings running through her veins, she wanted hard truths.

‘Poe,’ she held up a hand to stop him. To stop him and his well-meant, but ultimately meaningless, words. 

‘Rey?’

‘Tell me the truth. Did Ben kill Han? And who the hell is Hosnia Prime?’

***

Of course, they’d started shouting the moment Ben and Rey cleared customs. They swarmed towards them, cameras flashing and voices raised, and Rey felt Ben’s hand tighten on her shoulder. He crowded over her, keeping her in the crook of his arm, and between that and the smell of his coat on her body and the smell of him- the deep, intense smell of him- on her skin, Rey felt her pulse quicken and a low, deep warmth pool in her stomach. Desire, she realised again in surprise. But this time, a desire of her own. Desire for him. Desire for his skin against hers and his smell on her body and his eyes on hers and his mouth... Rey swallowed. Desire for his mouth, to kiss and be kissed. Desire for his lips everywhere on her. 

He must have sensed her emotions, because the moment her body flooded with lust she felt his grow hard behind her, his eyes nearly black, the lines of his face tense. At one point in the fray to avoid the paparazzi, Rey stumbled, grabbing onto Ben’s hip for support. He made a low groan, helping to steady her, determined to get her past the vultures without incident. His hand tightened further, and she bit her lip to stifle a groan of her own. Desire and lust were new to her, and she was greedy for more. She was greedy for everything.

The paparazzi clearly weren’t getting the pictures they wanted, for the closer Ben and Rey got to the exit, the louder their shouts and catcalls became.

‘Reagan! Reagan! Show us just how sweet you Plutt girls can be! Smile for us, Rey!’

‘Rey! Are you going to live with Skywalker? Did you know he was the son of Vader? Did you know Leia was his daughter?’ 

‘Ignore them,’ Ben murmured into her ear. ‘We’re nearly there.’

‘Ben...’ Rey began, before realising her mistake. 

A heartbeat, and then the photographers went wild. 

‘Fuck! It’s Ben Solo! Ben! Where have you been for the last ten years?’

Ben tensed even further, but kept his head down. Rey sensed a dangerous spike to his scent and tried to even her breathing, mentally sending support, trying to calm him. His hands clenched, and his grip on her became almost painful.

‘Ben! Is it true you killed your father? Go on, the public have the right to know!’

‘Tell us the truth, Ben, did you kill Han Solo? And how about Hosnia Prime? Who murdered her? You were there, weren’t you?’

‘Where is Snoke these days? What about Hux and Phasma? One of you killed Hosnia, didn’t you? Who was it?’

By the time Rey was thrown into the car with Poe, it felt as though a thousand questions had been thrown at them. 

And suddenly, she had a thousand questions of her own. And Ben... Ben slammed the door on her and turned away. Without a second glance. He disappeared back into the crowd, leaving her alone with Poe. 

Poe, who looked at her so hopefully for a moment.

Poe, who now looked at her with horror.

‘Well?’ Rey demanded. ‘Did Ben kill Han?’

Poe shook his head at her dumbly. ‘You smell like him. Why do you smell like him, Rey?’

‘Answer my question, Poe.’

‘No, you answer mine, Rey.’

Silence. But seeing the stoic look of defiance on Rey’s face, and her entirely un-omega response to his question, Poe crumpled. 

‘The truth is I don’t know, Rey. I don’t know.’

‘And Hosnia? Who was she?’ Rey’s voice was icy.

Poe looked out of his window. ‘An actress. Or a wannabe actress at any rate. She was an Omega.’

‘And she’s dead.’

‘Yes.’

‘Did Ben kill her?’ 

Poe took a deep breath, clearly hating every moment of this conversation. But he sighed, turning back to face her with empty eyes.

‘I think so Rey. I really think he did.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friend is a social worker in London, and she is one of the loveliest people you could ever meet. Rey’s social worker is entirely fictional. X


	6. Wash it Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was originally 7000 words long.
> 
> Clearly that is too long, so I have split it in two.
> 
> PLEASE BE AWARE:
> 
> In this chapter, there are mentions of death, murder, rape, choking, bondage and drug use. If this is triggering, please do not read.
> 
> In order to understand a redeemed Ben Solo, you have to understand what he has redeemed himself from. As in canon, he has an exceptionally dark history. 
> 
> I know some people aren’t keen on Damerey scenes (I’m not a fan either, tbh). But it has relevance to the later story, which is why it is included in this fic.
> 
> For those that are actually staying with me for this fic, the pain train will call at smut town eventually.

The tabloid account of the death of Hosnia Prime makes for uncomfortable reading. 

Most of the articles Rey finds use the same police reports, the same theories, and the same words from family and friends. Rey swallows as she takes those in, her eyes blurring when she reads a simple statement from Hosnia’s mother. 

‘She was beautiful inside and out, and we will miss her forever more. There is a new star burning bright in the galaxy tonight,’ Rey reads, her insides twisting painfully.

Rey is drawn to the photographs that accompany the articles, a litany of charming images of what was clearly a charming girl. One photograph is a headshot, the stark black and white of the image doing nothing to diminish Hosnia’s obvious beauty. Her smile is wide and bright, her cheekbones high. Her eyes are dark and her hair is braided away from her face, worn in a simple rope across her shoulder. In this image she is young and lovely and her future is bright. Her future is assured. Her future is happy.

Her future is the next image.

It is of Hosnia and Ben, spilling out of a nightclub. Ben’s arm is draped tight around Hosnia, the pale white of his colouring made even more translucent against the warm caramel of Hosnia’s skin. He is dressed in black, she is dressed in silver. He is tall and she is petite. He is an Alpha, she an Omega. They are the opposite of one another but for one thing: both have a wild-eyed, unsteady look to them. Both are high, the accompanying report states, on a drug called Starkiller.

Rey feels sick. She has no personal experience of drugs; she has never taken them, nor does she have any desire to. She saw what a dependency on alcohol did to her parents- her birth parents, that is- and she shudders at the thought of ever becoming reliant on anything that could wreak such damage to your life. With a shudder, she recalls her mother crying because she’d spilled the last of her wine in a drunken stumble. She’d pulled Rey from her bed of sheets on the floor before walking her to the local tube station, still in her pyjamas, where they begged for money. Rey still remembers the biting cold against her feet, and of begging her mother for some socks, or to please, please let’s just go home, Mummy. 

But they’d stayed out in the ice until they were given enough coins for a cheap box of wine.

Starkiller, by all accounts, offered an intense high without any paranoia or nausea. Some users described Starkiller as giving a feeling of unrestricted power, of complete control over yourself and others around you, while bliss circled in your veins. It was prohibitively expensive for a drug, and for a time that was because it was considered safe. No one overdosed on Starkiller, no one reported any ill-effects.

Not until Hosnia, at any rate.

The day after the nightclub picture was taken, Hosnia was found facedown in bed at the penthouse apartment of a young man named Armitage Hux. Her hands had been bound behind her back and there was evidence that she had, at least at one point, been compressed around the neck. She was covered in the semen of three different Alphas, named in the report as Solo, Hux and Mitaka. She had also been knotted by all three, over a period of some eleven hours. 

There is a link to a picture of Hosnia’s body which Rey refuses to click on. Instead, she goes through to the report with the coroner’s findings, which clearly state that Hosnia died of an overdose of Starkiller, and not of strangulation or assault.

The police report adds to this. All the Alphas involved in Hosnia’s death firmly state that she was a willing participant in the evening’s events, and there was no evidence to suggest she was raped or held unwillingly. Two other witnesses there that night- including another Omega- also gave statements that Hosnia was in no way coerced into anything that transpired. 

Without any solid evidence to suggest misadventure, no charges were pressed, and Hosnia’s death was ruled an overdose. But the outcry and negative press surrounding Hosnia’s death rippled on, and there was major discussion about the susceptibility of Omegas to dominant Alphas. Sales of Omega suppressants and Alpha blockers surged, while Leia, the Alpha whose Alpha son was so embroiled in this scandal, was unwillingly hauled before congress to make a statement. The press were not kind to her.

Just a year later she adopted Rey, and with the passage of time the press became kinder. Leia, now mother to an Omega, took Omega rights to her heart and relaunched herself as a kind of spokesperson for that designation. The voters learned to love her all over again, and as for Ben... well, Leia never mentioned him again. 

Rey realises, sitting in her old bedroom at the Big House, her laptop flickering before her, that she was adopted not because Leia needed a child, but because Leia needed a bandage to cover the festering wounds Ben left behind.

Ben was right. She was not Leia’s child, but her project.

Chewing on her nails, Rey types ‘Ben Solo’ into google and waits with bated breath for the results. There are already pictures online from the airport earlier, and Rey is surprised to see the fierceness written on Ben’s face as he protects her from the paparazzi. He looks almost wild, ready to kill, his eyes dark and heady. In one image he is such the image of the traditional Alpha that Rey feels her stomach knot with unexpected desire once again. With Hosnia’s name still fresh in her memory, she is uncertain how to feel about this. 

But save today’s pictures, there is nothing at all to be found on Ben Solo after the day the inquest into Hosnia’s death concluded. It is as if he disappeared into thin air, and now Rey is desperately curious: where has Ben been for the last ten years? And why did the press that day seem to think he had been complicit in Han’s accidental death?

Unable to sleep, Rey goes through the images of Ben from before Hosnia’s death. While there are many of him and Hosnia, there are also pictures of him very clearly with Anoat Anderson, the daughter of a Swedish dignitary and famous socialite. She is all blonde hair and soft curves and baby-blue eyes, and in these pictures Ben is always either kissing or embracing her. 

It goes on. There are pictures of Ben with Kimano, the Japanese model, pressed up against a wall. And then there are pictures of him with Sophia Corellia, the Italian pop star, making out at an awards show. There are photographs of him with Lady Catherine Crait, the British film star, whose red hair shows up like blood against the salt-white of her skin. It goes on, and on, and on... and Rey knows- she just knows, without even being told- that these women, no, that these girls, are all Omegas, and in these pictures, all still under the age of twenty-one.

‘All Betas, all willing and all over the age of twenty-one,’ Ben had told her. Rey suddenly understands that statement, and feels sick all over again. 

One thing Rey does note from these pictures is that in none of them does Ben look even remotely happy. His eyes are dark but vacant, his face blank and unfeeling. From the age of fifteen to twenty-one, Ben is pictured with at least two dozen different women. But in all that time he is never photographed smiling at them or with them, in fact, in some he isn’t even looking at them, instead staring off to the side or at the camera with a real look of menace, his good looks compromised by his anger.

There is something else about these pictures that makes Rey stop and think, though she cannot put her finger on what it is that makes her do so. There is something generally off about them, a presence she cannot put a name to, and she frowns as she turns her laptop off.

Rey won’t sleep tonight. Still British enough to believe that life’s problems can be eased by a good cup of tea, she goes down into the large kitchen to fill the kettle, where she finds Poe drinking whisky at the table. He watches her with sad eyes as she goes about boiling the water and steeping the tea bag, and Rey is amazed that even though he is clearly exhausted, he still looks amazingly good. 

Obviously Poe is well rehearsed in hiding his feelings, while Ben- well, Rey doesn’t know anything about Ben really, does she?

Poe nods towards a stack of papers in front of him, clearing his throat as Rey pulls up the seat next to his.

‘I got Leia’s will,’ he says, knocking back his drink in one swift motion. ‘Rey, you should probably read it. She... I don’t know why... but she’s named your guardian as-’

‘Ben,’ Rey says coolly, sipping her tea. ‘I already know.’

Poe raises an eyebrow at her. 

‘He told me,’ Rey explains, and Poe gives a bitter laugh. 

‘The man has no shame,’ he says, and Rey ignores the slight slur to his words. ‘For ten years we don’t hear from him. Nothing. Nada. Not a thing. What... what is it you British say?’

‘Fuck all,’ Rey supplies helpfully.

‘That’s it. Fuck all,’ Poe refills his glass from the bottle of whisky by his side. Rey recognises the label; it is one of Han’s old favourites, and she swallows down a small moment of sadness with her mouthful of tea, just as Poe slams down another mouthful of whisky. ‘Ten years and fuck all. And then Leia dies and as soon as he’s informed he’s rushing off to get to you and fucking scenting you and then leaving you with me to deal with his shit, all over again. He has no shame.’

Rey says nothing for a moment, before reaching for the whisky herself. She pours a small measure into her tea, taking comfort from the familiar smell. Whisky reminds her of Han and Chewie and airplanes and engine oil and everything good in her life. It tastes vile mixed with the tea, but she drinks it anyway. Sometimes, she muses, the best things in life come in the most unlikely packages.

‘I looked up Hosnia Prime,’ she says tonelessly, and Poe looks at her sharply.

‘And?’

‘Most people seem to agree that it was an overdose.’

Poe scoffs at that. ‘Hosnia was a clean-cut actress from a clean-cut family who, prior to meeting Ben, had never been known to take drugs or even a drink in her life. Well, maybe it was the Starkiller that got her in the end, but she wasn’t just under the influence of that drug... no, she was under the influence of Ben and his toxic Alpha friends. I met them all you know. Nice group of boys,’ he snorted as he took another drink. 

‘You met them?’

‘For my sins,’ Poe replies. ‘They all met at one of those Alpha camp things that Skywalker used to run. Luke wanted to teach young Alphas how to behave in the world, how to use their designation for good, that sort of thing. Basically, how to be everything Vader wasn’t. Never went to one myself, but Leia thought Luke’s work was amazing. She sent Ben every summer. He always had his head buried in books, you see. You could always find Ben in a book or under an airplane. Leia was trying to bring him out of his shell, so to speak,’ Poe pauses. ‘She should have left him there to rot.’

‘Oh,’ Rey looked at Poe. ‘I didn’t know Luke did that.’

‘No, you wouldn’t, would you? After Hosnia and Starkiller... no, after Ben... Luke had to stop. Ben and his friends formed their little club at those camps, you see. Called themselves the First Order. Luke had to shut up shop after Hosnia and then he disappeared off to that dairy farm of his. It was after Ben that Luke went...’ Poe paused, looking at Rey keenly. ‘Well, you know. I don’t mean any disrespect to Luke, he’s a war hero, after all. But you know what I mean.’

Rey thinks of Luke and his homespun robes. She thinks of his organic milk. She thinks of his unkempt beard and of his attempts to transcend his designation. Yes, Rey knows what Poe means.

‘I’m going to fight this for you, Rey,’ Poe nods at Leia’s will again. ‘If we fight it, no court in the world will make you go with Ben. Not against your will.’

Rey ponders this. ‘I don’t think Ben would take me against my will.’

Poe shakes his head, looking at her in disbelief before knocking back another glass. ‘Fucking Ben,’ he swears as he pours another measure. ‘Rey, wash his scent off your neck and we’ll talk about this again.’

‘You don’t think I should go with him.’

‘No,’ Poe exhales. ‘No, he isn’t safe for you to be around. No Omega is safe around an Alpha like him.’

Rey finishes her tea. ‘He told me he doesn’t... he said he no longer...’ she clears her throat awkwardly, feeling Poe’s interested gaze on her. ‘Not with Omegas, anyway,’ she concludes lamely.

Poe only huffs into his glass.

‘If I don’t go with Ben, who will be my guardian? Luke?’ Rey asks, desperate to change the conversation. 

The silence that follows is palpable, and Rey looks up from her tea to find Poe staring at her- really staring at her. Suddenly there is a spike in the air, a change of smell that tells Rey exactly who Poe thinks she should go with, without even a word being spoken.

He exhales slowly. ‘How is it Rey, being eighteen?’

She laughs awkwardly. ‘Can’t you remember?’

He also laughs. ‘I don’t think I was ever eighteen... not even when I was, if that makes sense,’ abruptly he stops laughing, and looks at her again, his gaze frank. ‘I watered those plants for you,’ he tells her. ‘Every day.’

‘You didn’t have to-’

But Poe gives her a look. ‘I know I didn’t have to. But I wanted to, Rey.’

She gives a small smile. ‘Thank you, Poe,’ Rey is sincere, though in her heart of hearts she knows that for Poe, right now, it might not be enough. Not when there is so much more that he wants to hear. He wants more than her thanks, more than her gratitude. He wants more than Rey can give at that moment, with Ben’s smell still enveloping her. So she pauses. ‘You’re a good friend,’ she adds lamely, almost as an afterthought.

‘Friend,’ Poe looks away from Rey to the bottom of his glass, once again empty. ‘A good friend,’ he shakes his head once more. ‘Fucking Ben. Wash his scent off your neck, Rey.’

Poe is using an Alpha voice that, under normal circumstances, Rey would respond to. But Ben’s smell is still all over her neck and chest and it makes a hard wall for Poe’s words to run into. 

‘Do it soon,’ Poe carries on, taking Rey’s silence as acquiesce. ‘Ben will be here in a few days. Get it off before he comes back.’

‘He’s been... has he been in contact with you?’ Rey stammers.

Poe nods. ‘Leia’s great, final joke: making Ben and I her legal next of kin. I knew she had a wry sense of humour, but I didn’t think she would find this funny. So yes, Ben has been in contact. Of course he has. Now that he’s seen you, now that he’s scented you...’ he sighs and Rey feels a flush across her chest and cheeks. ‘He won’t stay away now. I know him. He won’t be able to.’

‘He told me our biology wouldn’t be a problem.’

‘Ben Solo says lots of things. You should read his-’

‘Read what?’ Rey asks.

But Poe shrugs. ‘Forget it, sweetheart. Forget I said anything at all. Time spent talking about Ben Solo is time wasted.’

For a moment they sit in uncomfortable silence. Finally Rey stands, putting her empty mug into the sink. ‘Get some sleep, Poe,’ she says kindly.

‘I don’t think I’ll be able to,’ he replies. ‘Will you?’

Rey tries. She really does. But after five hours of tossing and turning, she pulls on her old overalls- remarkably, they still fit, grease stains and all- and ventures out in the dawn towards Han’s old plane hangar.

The hangar is locked, but Rey learnt the access code by heart years ago and taps it in quickly. The doors start to whir noisily, and Rey feels her feet dance with impatience as they slide open, before flicking on the switch for the lights.

When she looks in, she feels a profound elation tinged by sadness. For it has been years since Rey held a spanner in her hand or felt the beauty of a plywood frame under her fingertips, and her blood quickens with anticipation. The rows of planes are still there, just as Han left them, though Rey ignores all the modern and complete aircraft in favour of the older, broken models. Randomly, she goes toward a bi-plane- Han loved them, even the ones that would never take to the sky again- and begins an assessment, making a plan and checklist of equipment in her head. 

How long she spends in the hangar by that bi-plane she couldn’t tell you. But day spreads into night and then back into day before Poe realises where she is and has food sent down for her. She eats and then keeps working, ripping up some old sheets to make a bed for herself on the floor- old habits die hard, it would seem- and taking the odd nap here and there before picking herself back up and working again.

She doesn’t take a bath or shower in this time. She tells herself that this is because she is covered in grease and oil and why would she wash it off, just to get covered in it again? But Ben’s scent is still strong against her glands, and when she thinks of washing it off she feels almost distressed. Something deep within her rebels at the thought of losing his mark, and in those moments, when she understands the root of her problem, she hates herself for such weakness.

After three days, she falls into an exhausted sleep in her nest of sheets. She dreams of large hands and soft lips and murmured whispers in her ear. She feels a slick, wet heat pool between her legs, accompanied by an almost unbearable tightness. Pleasure blends with pain and then becomes pleasure again. Her body arches against a hard hand which strums her like a delicate instrument, producing a symphony of moans, gasps and pleading from her lips. She begs and is instantly rewarded.

She smells an Alpha against her, hot and hard and large. She feels his skin against hers, warm and pulsing and-

And Rey opens her eyes, her dreamlike state broken. For this, she knows suddenly, is no dream. She opens her eyes and meets his, dark and molten and raking over her hungrily. He is close enough to breathe in. He is close enough to taste. And Rey... Rey wants a bite of this. She wants everything he has to offer.

But he pulls away, leaving her hungry. He pulls away, leaving her bereft.

‘I won’t do this,’ he whispers, even as her hands reach to pull him back. ‘You have to wash it off, Rey. You have to wash it off.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should promise you all now that this has a happy ending for Rey. 
> 
> If you are still reading, see you Sunday.x


	7. Doctor Kanata

Rey scrubs at her neck and chest with a loofah until she is red and raw. So frantic is her work that the small bar of soap left in her bathroom is gone within minutes, and she resorts to emptying a full bottle of shampoo into her hands and applying that instead. At one point, her body is lathered in a layer of suds and bubbles so thick she can hardly see her skin. And still... and still... it isn’t enough.

Ben’s smell still sits on her skin, like a pheremonal tattoo. 

She sits under the stream of the shower so long that the room fills with steam and her fingertips prune. When the water runs cold she continues to sit, until the icy water bites into her skin and she can no longer bear it. 

Poe isn’t a bad man. Rey knows this. He isn’t a bad man; he would never hurt her. When she crept back to the Big House that morning he was waiting for her, absolutely mortified, full of apologies for his behaviour and ready to make amends. His eyes were red and framed by soft lines; it was clear to Rey that he hadn’t slept, and she knew him well enough to know that he’d probably been torturing himself all night. No, Poe was not a bad man.

Rey didn’t want to hear his apologies. Instead she gave him a small smile, laying a gentle hand against his arm. 

But Poe jumped back as if she’d bitten him. 

‘You can’t...’ He stammered. ‘Not unless you want me to... you just can’t- not at the moment- okay, Rey?’

Rey’s face fell. Poe, frowning at her sadness, took a deep, steadying breath.

‘You’re still my sweetheart, Rey. It’s just that...’

Rey nodded, blinking back tears. ‘No, it’s okay. I get it, I really do. Just... just call Doctor Kanata for me, will you?’

Because Rey isn’t a fool. She knows that something is happening to her body, something beyond her control, which in turn called to something in Poe’s. She tries to recall what they were taught about going into heat at Plutt’s, but she’d never had any real interest in the actual machinations of her body, preferring instead the brief lessons they’d had on the history of the Omega and the sociological issues surrounding them. So when it comes to her own biology, Rey is fairly clueless. 

But Margaret Kanata has been Leia’s family physician for years, and is an Omega like Rey, so if anyone can help her, it’s Maz. Maz has been prescribing Rey’s suppressants for six years now, and though reproductive healthcare is free in the U.K, she still sent them to Plutt’s so that Rey wouldn’t have to depend upon the National Health Service. 

‘Hacks,’ she told Rey over the phone, with a dismissive tone. ‘No one cares for the Solo family like I do.’

So Rey sits in Han’s hangar, biting her nails, while she waits for Maz to arrive. Poe has gone for the day, and though she didn’t ask him, he confessed he was going to visit his own physician to ask for a stronger blockers script. 

‘You don’t have to do that,’ Rey said quietly, but Poe shook his head vehemently.

‘Yes I do. I haven’t felt that... that out of control for years, Rey. I nearly-’

‘But you didn’t,’ Rey assures him. ‘You stopped. You didn’t do anything wrong, Poe.’

‘I wanted to,’ his voice is nearly a whisper. ‘God, how I wanted to.’

Rey understands. She understands, because last night- wet, hot and so throbbingly alive in the dark of night- she wanted him to do wrong too.

But in the cold light of morning, she lets him go.

Rey tinkers with an old engine she finds in the corner of the shed. It’s a beauty, a Lycoming O-320-E2D; Rey cannot help but admire it, running her hands over the rusting metal. It’s in poor condition though- probably a cheap buy from one of the less savoury aviation fairs Han and Chewie used to frequent- but Rey knows that with the right refit it will be absolutely serviceable again, and perfect for the 1968 Cessna Han never got around to remodelling. So she sets to work, digging out her tools and electrical cabling. By the time Maz appears Rey is sweaty, dirty, but also industriously happy, a big grin plastered over her face. There is nothing like fixing a machine when life seems so broken.

‘You don’t look sick,’ Maz remarks drily, setting down her bag. ‘I knew I shouldn’t have listened to a word that Poe Dameron says. All wind and no sails, that boy. He assured me that this was an emergency.’

‘Hello, Maz,’ Rey wipes her hands on her knees before bending to kiss the older woman. She’s always been taller than Doctor Kanata, even aged eight, Rey had been able to look down into Maz’s kind eyes. 

Maz accepted the kiss with a grimace, before pushing Rey away. ‘You’re all dirt, child,’ she lectured, looking at the oil stains on Rey’s clothes, before letting her eyes roam up and down over the rest of her. She inhaled sharply, shaking her head as though in disbelief. ‘Well, well, well... haven’t you grown up? So tall. Leia always said you were going to be like her and her mother- all dark hair and dark eyes on a petite frame, but you... you’re tall as a tree with autumn eyes. Oh don’t worry, it works on you, but...’ she scowled. ‘You’re too skinny though, child. Didn’t they feed you at that fancy school of yours?’

‘Not really.’

‘Well, if it’s nutrition advice you’re after I know a man in the city. He’s a scamp with wandering hands- damn fine wandering hands- but he’s the best nutritionist I know and-’

Suddenly Maz stopped. She inhaled again, before looking at Rey keenly. ‘Ah,’ her sigh is potent. ‘So that’s why Poe called me.’

Rey blushed scarlet, but Maz shook her head. ‘No, there’s no shame in it. None whatsoever, and anyone who tells you differently is either jealous or a reactionary. Probably both. No, there isn’t any shame in this. How old are you again, Rey?’

‘I’ll be nineteen in November.’

Maz nods, looking over her again. ‘Ever been in heat before?’

It shouldn’t have been possible, but Rey blushes deeper. Maz rolls her eyes, incredulous.

‘God help you, child, an Omega who spent three years living with other Omegas and still can’t talk about her basic biology. Well, have you? Go on, answer me. My next appointment is with a tennis instructor whose hamstrings are giving him trouble and I’m anxious to get to them... I mean him.’

‘No,’ Rey bit her lip. ‘No, this is... this is the first time.’

Maz opened her bag, taking out a notebook. She flipped through the until she settled upon a page, muttering to herself all the while. ‘Suppressants all up to date?’ She asks Rey abruptly. ‘You’re still taking the same ones?’

‘Yes.’

‘You didn’t miss any? I know with Leia’s passing- and I’m very sorry for that, child- you’ve been through some stress. It’s easy to miss one at times like this.’

‘I haven’t missed any.’

Maz looks at her sharply. ‘Then why are you going into heat? You’re maxed out on suppressants. It’s physically impossible. You can’t be going into heat unless-’

‘Unless?’

The grin Maz gives is wide and toothy. ‘Aha...’ she shakes her head contentedly, clearly pleased with herself. ‘Aha child... you’ve been spending time with Poe Dameron? He’s a good looking boy. A very good looking boy, although even that’s selling him short. He’s a damn fine specimen of Alpha male, and you have my envious congratulations. When did he mark you?’

Rey looks away from Maz to the floor. She shuffles her feet, anxious not to reply.

‘Well? When did he mark you? I would guess a few days ago, going by your smell. Well, whenever he did it you’ve reacted hard to him, and you’re going to have some fun on this heat, mark my words. I had many a fun heat in my time before Mr. Kanata made an almost-honest Omega of me. I still remember the day he licked me for the first time. God almighty child, I went into heat the next day. It’s a funny business, sometimes an Alpha can mark an Omega with no effect at all, but if the Omega is interested, well, sometimes even just being in his presence can set you off... so, when did he mark you?’

‘He didn’t.’

Maz looks confused. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘He didn’t mark me. Up until last night, he’s hardly touched me.’

‘Then why are you going into heat? Either you missed a pill or an Alpha marked you... which is it?’

‘An alpha,’ Rey confesses, her eyes still glued to her feet. 

A moment of silence fills the hangar.

‘Would you like to tell me who?’

‘No,’ Rey looks up, expecting judgement, but finding only kindness in Maz’s eyes. ‘No, and I... and I don’t want to go into heat for him either.’

‘You want me to stop this?’

‘Yes.’

Another moment of silence, before Maz nods. ‘There is an emergency shot you can take. It will stave off the inevitable for a few months, but that’s it. You’ll have to have this heat eventually, child.’

‘With the Alpha who started it?’ Rey asks, her voice small.

Maz gives a gentle smile. ‘No. Who you have your heats with is always up to you.’

Rey clears her throat. ‘And the Alpha... will he know? Will he sense it?’

‘Mmm, maybe. But if you just keep away from him, mind your distance, you’ll be fine.’

‘And what if I can’t? Keep away from him, that is.’

Maz sighs, her eyes boring into Rey sharply. ‘Maybe you should tell me who this Alpha is, Rey.’

‘No, I- I just want that shot, Maz. Please.’

Maz doesn’t move, still looking at Rey with frank eyes. ‘I’ve been the Solo family physician for a long time, Rey. I’ve seen this look before. If you do my job for as long as I have, you start to see the same eyes in different people. It doesn’t feel that long since another Solo came to see me, begging for a shot or a pill- or anything, really- that would keep their biology at bay.’

Rey nodded. ‘Please, Maz.’

With another deep sigh, Maz reaches into her bag. She pulls out a cool kit, unzipping the neat pouch and drawing from within a small syringe. 

‘My emergency Omega kit,’ she explains. ‘Go and sit over there- God, this hangar is filthy. Han and Chewie were my favourites, but they were slovenly hot messes who wouldn’t know a sponge from a dishcloth,’ Maz snapped on a pair of latex gloves while giving the hangar another regretful glance. ‘Where is Chewie, these days?’

Rey sat gingerly, wincing as the needle eased its way into her skin. ‘After Han, he went back to Europe.’

‘Shame. I like that man, even though he’s a Beta. There’s just something about a man who can carry off that much hair,’ Maz smirks, before pushing down on the syringe. 

Rey inhales as she tries to hide her pain. Her pain, and a small amount of regret. Part of her wonders, even as the cold of the blocker enters her bloodstream, what Ben would have done had he returned and found her in heat. A heat her body has engineered solely for him. 

Probably nothing, Rey tells herself. He doesn’t fuck Omegas, and now that she knows about Hosnia, perhaps she should be glad. She reminds herself that this is for the greater good. 

‘There,’ Maz remarks as she draws the syringe back, applying a compress to Rey’s skin. ‘That should start to work right away, but remember- it will wear off eventually.’

‘Thank you, Maz, I’m so grateful-’

‘Sit still, child, I’m not done with you yet.’

Suddenly, another needle is plunged into Rey’s arm, the unexpected pain making her yelp.

‘What is this for?’ She squirms as Maz pressed down on the syringe, a cool fluid dispensing under Rey’s skin.

‘Contraception,’ Maz says bluntly. ‘I told you, the emergency shot only lasts a few months- less if you’re going to be unable to, how did you say it? Ah yes, keep away from him. Well, consider this a preventative of a different kind. Just in case biology gets the better of you.’

‘It won’t.’

‘If you say so,’ Maz shrugs. ‘Sometimes, child, you just have to let it in. Take it from an Omega who knows.’

Maz packs up her bag as Rey gingerly rubs at her arm. ‘Are you coming to the funeral?’ Rey asks, tripping over the words. It still feels so odd, that the magnificent force that was once Leia is now just a body to be disposed of. She hates the very thought.

‘No,’ Maz shakes her head, a sadness in her face. ‘No, I want no part of that. I’ll remember Leia how I want to... just a lovely young woman with her baby on her hip, laughing as Han, Chewie and Luke raced their airplanes like the silly little boys they really were under all their finery.’

Rey nods, tears prickling at her eyes. Maz reaches up to Rey’s face, lifting her chin so that she is forced to look up. Maz peers up at her and Rey feels almost as though the older woman is looking into her soul.

‘Leia was no fool, Rey. If she ever did something, it was because she had a plan. Trust her, even from the beyond.’

Rey gives Maz a fond smile. 

‘On to my tennis instructor and his delicious hamstrings then,’ Maz snaps her bag shut, giving Rey another keen glance. ‘You tell that Alpha of yours hello from me. I’ve missed him.’

‘I’m sure Poe would have liked to see you.’

‘Oh,’ Maz smiles again. ‘You can tell Poe hello too.’

***

Rey is stirring soup in the kitchen when she hears the door open and the thud of a bag in the hall. The Big House is large, but the ceilings are high and rooms open, so sound travels easily.

‘I’m in the kitchen, Poe!’ She shouts happily. The shot has taken effect and she is no longer frightened of his reaction to her. They can sit, like the old friends they are, and talk. Finally catch up, they way they would of had it not been for Ben. For Ben and his damn scent. For Ben and his chocolate eyes. 

With the emergency blockers in her body, Rey feels as though a fog has lifted from her being. She feels lighter, happier than she has in days, and hungry too. The longing she felt in Ben’s presence has receded, and she feels calmer, less on edge, less like her nerves will shatter into a thousand pieces at any moment. Her need to fix machines or re-wire Cessna engines has gone from desperate to energetic, and she decides to start on the Lycoming again the next day, without the heat to cloud her brain.

But first dinner.

Cooking comes easily to Rey, a happy side-effect of her own love for food. She has a sweet tooth that has long been denied, and she delights in rummaging through the Big House’s kitchen cupboards, finding long-hidden stashes of cocoa and honey. They were Han’s, of course, though middle age and too many failed blood sugar tests meant that they were restricted and heavily guarded. In a real show of affection, Leia fretted terrible about Han’s health, always afraid he would one day expire suddenly, killed by one too many doughnuts or slices of cream pie. 

Rey tries not to reflect on the irony that it was actually Leia’s heart that gave out in the end.

She has a soup bubbling peacefully on the stove and an apple pie in the oven when she hears footsteps behind her, and she turns, happily expectant.

‘You’re just in time for dinner, Poe. I followed that apple pie recipe you love and-’

She freezes. Her heart suddenly kicks up a notch and it is as though she has been kicked in the stomach.

‘Hello Rey,’ Ben says, regarding her darkly from the doorway.

‘Ben,’ she says, her mouth dry, the word awkward from her tongue.

Ben’s eyes sweep across the kitchen he has not stepped foot in for over ten years.

‘Where’s Senora Threpiò?’ He asks curiously, referring to Leia’s ancient battle axe of a housekeeper. ‘Don’t tell me Leia finally put her out to pasture.’

Rey bristles. Senora Threpiò might be overbearing, but she always indulged Rey and her sweet-tooth and Rey feels nothing but kindness towards her. 

Rey spun back to her soup. ‘Well, Senora has been sobbing into her apron since Leia’s death, so Poe released her from all her duties so she could properly mourn.’

‘Poe’s quite at home here, then,’ Ben replies, a faintly nasty tone to his voice.

‘Yes.’

‘And you’re making his favourite for dinner. Well, what a homely tableau this is.’

‘You’re welcome to join us,’ Rey says coldly.

‘I should think so. This is my house now after all.’

For a few minutes Rey continues to stir her soup, refusing to look at Ben, who she knows still watches her from the doorway.

When he speaks again, Rey can tell he is trying to mask the curiosity in his voice.

‘I drove past Doctor Kanata’s car on my way in,’ he says lightly. ‘Are you sick?’

‘No.’

‘Then why was she here?’

‘Paying her respects,’ Rey lies instantly. ‘She loved your mother.’

Ben is next to her in a split-second. ‘Liar,’ he says bluntly, his voice eerily calm. He runs a finger from her shoulder to her wrist, his fingertips gently curving around the two bandages on her arm. Damnation, why didn’t she think to cover them? Rey bites her lip as her skin breaks out in treacherous goose pimples, and she is dismayed by the sudden surge of lust that runs through her body.

‘I told you not to lie to me, Rey. I always know when you lie. So tell me honestly, why was Doctor Kanata here? What did she give you?’

Rey puts down her soup spoon, taking a step back from Ben.

‘Vaccinations. I’ve been travelling and-’

Ben closed the distance between them, his face still set in serious lines. ‘More lies. Why are you lying to me, Rey?’

She takes a deep breath. ‘Fine,’ she whispers. ‘She gave me a shot of emergency heat blockers, as well as a contraceptive jab. Not,’ she adds furiously, ‘that this is any of your business whatsoever.’

There is a thick, loaded moment as Ben comprehends her words, and what they mean. His fists clench, and Rey could swear that his eyes dilate as they rake over her.

‘You were going into heat?’ He asks heavily.

‘Why else would I have Doctor Kanata give me an emergency heat blocker?’ Rey snaps back.

‘And where’s Dameron been during all of this?’ Ben’s voice is soft, but Rey can feel the suppressed menace behind his words.

‘You don’t need to worry about him,’ she says quickly.

‘I didn’t say I was worried. I asked where he’s been.’

‘He got a script for emergency Alpha blockers- I haven’t seen him since last night.’

‘I see. Did he touch you?’

Rey says nothing, looking towards the window and away from Ben’s searching, hot gaze. He takes her face gently, pulling it back toward him.

‘I said: Did he touch you?’

‘He... he stopped before anything really happened. It’s not his fault- or mine- it was just...’

There is a vicious roar as the pot of soup is dashed from the stove to the floor. Ben swears as the soup splashes, burning his arm, and hoists Rey up and away from the danger. He carries her into the hall where he sets her down, looking at her with quiet rage.

‘He touches you again and I will kill him. Do you understand that, Rey? He touches you again, and I kill him.’

‘You... you can’t mean that...’

‘I mean every fucking word. This is my house and you are my Omeg... my sister and Poe Dameron doesn’t get to touch you or have you running around my kitchen making his favourite fucking food. Do you understand, Rey?’

Rey stands, silently shaking. When she finds her voice, it is blunt with anger.

‘You don’t get to decide who touches me.’

Ben regards her with detached interest. His smile is dangerous when he leans towards her, running his lips across her ear and then across the scent gland that sits there. Rey trembles with barely concealed want, eliciting a primal groan of desire from Ben.

‘You tried to wash it off, didn’t you? Why? Was it bothering Dameron? Because it wasn’t bothering you, was it Rey?’ His voice is low, and so filled with sex and promise that Rey feels her nipples harden. Ben smiles at her response, running a hand from her shoulder down to her stomach, a light and drifting movement which has her clenching against him. ‘I don’t get to decide, you’re right. I’m not going to force you into anything,’ he adds. ‘But I’m going to make it very difficult for you to want any other Alpha, Rey. For the next two years, you’re mine.’

‘Why?’ Rey asks, her voice a whimper. ‘You don’t want to fuck me. Why not let another Alpha do what you won’t?’

Ben sighs. ‘Because in this world, Alphas hurt Omegas, Rey. That’s all they do. And I promised myself a long time ago I would never let another Omega in my life be hurt again.’

‘Like Hosnia?’

Her name is like a talisman. Ben drops his hands away from Rey, taking two full steps away from her. The look of black horror in his eyes terrifies Rey.

‘Alphas hurt Omegas, do they?’ Rey continues mercilessly. ‘Or do you hurt Omegas, Ben?’

‘You don’t know anything about me,’ Ben replies, but he is clearly shaken.

Rey nods. ‘I know you’re a monster,’ she whispers.

At the word ‘monster’, a calm cloud seems to drop over Ben. He gives a bitter smile, followed by an utterly humourless laugh.

‘You’re right,’ he exhales slowly. ‘I am a monster.’

He moves away from Rey, picking up his bag and heading to the stairs. Over his shoulder he turns back to her, his eyes dark and bitter.

‘Dameron doesn’t come in this house again,’ he orders. ‘And he doesn’t touch you. Not ever, from this moment. Never again. Do as I ask, Rey, or you’ll really see what a monster I can be.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Ben/Rey chapters coming up next, with some revelations and explanations for certain behaviour.


	8. Misplaced Biology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve had many people ask me for Ben’s POV. Happy to say I am working on it- although it will mean some substantial rewrites to the ending of this fic. So the chapter count may go up... I have this idea in my mind of how to wrap this up from Ben’s perspective. Also, smut begins next chapter. Just warning you all now.

When Leia Organa was nineteen and a Harvard undergraduate, she spent a summer working as an intern for the Palpatine administration. Pretty as a peach, petite as a ballerina and with a smile that unfurled like a delicate flower, everyone looked twice at Leia without ever really noticing her. She appeared every bit as hard-working and dedicated to the cause as the next employee, dressed in her white shift dress, her hair pulled back from her striking face so that everyone could see her honest brown eyes. 

Well, her not so honest brown eyes, it would turn out. 

By the time anyone realised that the slight and smiling Leia was head of an underground democratic group calling themselves the ‘Rebellion’, the damage had been done. Dozens of people- from secretaries to postal workers, canteen staff to radar technicians- had infiltrated Palpatine’s administration on Leia’s orders, collating information they hoped would shatter the increasingly corrupt government.

In the end, aided by the Rebellion’s guerilla-like tactics, the Palpatine administration imploded. The papers Leia leaked to the press revealing the President’s less-than-savoury life choices and detailing the depth of corruption within his regime made his position untenable. He became public enemy number one, while Leia... Leia became a star.

The nation loved their democratic princess, the last link they had to America’s great motoring history. The Alderaan Motor Company might have fallen, but Leia Organa, daughter of Bail, destroyer of Palpatine, remained. From Harvard she went straight into law school, before spending years working as a human rights representative. The press followed her career with interest, though to her chagrin they wrote more about her fashion choices and faintly scandalous love life. 

There was intense speculation about the nature of her relationship with Luke Skywalker, the Air Force veteran and war hero, who was seemingly always at her side. But just as the press decided that Organa and Skywalker could make an Alpha/Alpha relationship work, Leia surprised them all by quietly marrying Han Solo. Solo was politely described as a Beta, a businessman and aviator, but the truth was much less kind. It didn’t take much research to discover that Han’s shipping business was on the verge of collapse, and that he’d left a litany of debts across the country, debts which- after Leia- were quietly cleaned up.

But Han was handsome, kind-hearted and- in the eyes of populace- a real man’s man. And so the princess and her rogue were cheered and applauded, loved and lauded. 

Or at least they were, until their son’s drug-laden Omega girlfriend was discovered dead in a bed, his fluids all over her.

Rey sits quietly in the clinical white office of Leia’s team, her face blank, while the deeds and merits of Leia’s life are laid out before her. The team, headed by Poe Dameron and Kaydel Connix, argue frequently. The flowers should be red and not white, some argue. But white was Leia’s colour, of course they should be white, it is said. What about hymns? The readings? Should the democratic princess be laid to rest by a church even anyway? Well of course, the Organa’s were Catholic. Of course she should have a church service. But then Kaydel frowns. Her birth mother was Jewish, Kaydel intones. Can they lay a woman who was Jewish by birth to rest by a celibate priest?

When the arguments get too hot or too many tears begin to spill, the team turn to Rey. Rey, who is Leia’s daughter, and will surely have all the answers. 

But Rey sits dumbly, unable to help. She wants to tell them that this is all one massive misunderstanding, that she is just Rey of the Jakku Estate. And how can Rey of Jakku ever be so bold as to make such decisions for the great Leia Organa? 

Rey looks at Kaydel with her tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes. Of everyone in this room, Kaydel knew Leia best. Rey looks at Poe, who is red-faced in his outrage that anyone dared even suggest mentioning Vader at the service. Rey looks at them both and sees their utter heartbreak, their quiet devastation and yet also, even in their grief, their determined resolve. They will give Leia everything they have in death, just as they did in her life.

Suddenly she knows: they loved Leia more than she ever did, would or could. It is a sobering thought, and for a brief moment Rey is desperately sad for herself, and also for Ben. For they might have been Leia’s son and daughter, but here in this room sit her real children.

‘Do what you like,’ Rey abruptly stands, desperate to get away from this room and the all pervading sadness within. She picks up her bag and walks to the door, getting midway down the corridor before she feels a hand on her shoulder.

Poe’s hand.

‘You okay, sweetheart?’ He asks, even as she shakes off his touch.

‘Yes,’ she replies, though they both know she is not.

Poe looks at her without moving. He looks from side to side, making sure they are alone, before clearing his throat.

‘I won’t say I’m not concerned about you being in that house and alone with him,’ he tells her, ‘That message you sent scared the hell out of me.’

Ah, yes. That message. The one Rey hastily tapped out on her phone to Poe, warning him to keep away from her and the Big House for awhile. The message she sent which resulted in him calling her fifteen times that night, calls Rey was too terrified to answer, lest Ben discover them.

‘What’s going on?’ Poe asks her now. ‘Is he mistreating you? If he lays even a finger on you, I’ll get every lawyer in the Organa camp on his miserable ass and have him-’

But Rey shakes her head. ‘No, there’s no need for that.’

‘No need? Rey, this is Ben Solo we are talking about here. Of course there is a need. He can’t be trusted around any Omega. I told you about Hosnia and- well, Rey...’ Poe’s voice softens. ‘I don’t want that to be you.’

‘It won’t be,’ Rey assures him.

She speaks with a degree of honesty. In truth, since her emergency heat blocker four days ago, Ben has hardly come near her, and it perturbs Rey to know that where she is concerned, he has gone from fiery in sheer possessiveness to ice-cold in dismissiveness. The morning after their showdown, when Rey went down to the kitchen, fully prepared to argue her side and berate him for his over-Alpha protectiveness, she found Ben hunched over his coffee, looking at her with unreadable eyes.

‘Thank God,’ he’d muttered when he saw her, ‘it’s nearly gone... that smell...’ 

Rey knew what he spoke of. ‘The heat blocker will have taken full effect by now.’

‘Yes. Rey- I’m sorry for yesterday. It’s been a trying week and what with...’ but he trailed off, looking from her back into his coffee. He sighed. ‘I won’t let that sort of behaviour happen again.’

‘Alright,’ Rey agreed, pouring herself a cup of coffee. By default, she reached across the table to top up Ben’s cup too, and he watched her in this simple act of homeliness with something akin to disbelief.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘If we are issuing apologies, I might as well apologise for bringing up Hosnia-’

Ben flinched. ‘Don’t... don’t say her name, okay? It’s fine. Just don’t... I don’t want you to talk about her, of all people.’

‘You loved her,’ Rey said simply, sipping her coffee.

But Ben looked at Rey with bitter surprise. ‘No,’ he says. ‘No, I never loved her.’

Rey bit her lip. ‘But... but there are so many pictures of you together, and I just assumed...’

‘Everyone always assumes something where I’m concerned,’ Ben said, his voice sour. ‘Hosnia was just supposed to be a bit of fun... they all were. All those girls, all those Omegas. But I never loved her. No, the only one I ever loved was...’

But Ben stopped, and the stark honesty fell from his eyes. His carefully constructed mask of indifference returned, and his voice became toneless once more.

‘After the funeral I’m going back to my place,’ he said, almost carelessly. ‘I have work to catch up on. Death is so inconvenient for one’s schedule. Look, legally you are now my ward, and should come back with me. But I’m not unreasonable. If you don’t think this arrangement will work, I will be more than happy to put you back on a plane to the UK. In the UK you are considered emancipated, after all. And I’ll make sure you have access to all the funds you need until you come into your inheritance.’

It’s a tempting offer. ‘You don’t want me?’ Rey still asks, hating herself for the neediness of her words.

Ben shook his head. ‘It isn’t as simple as that. You’re eighteen, Rey. What about your exams? Your education?’

But Rey refuses to return to Plutt’s. ‘I finished my A-levels last term. I was just filling time at Plutt’s until Leia came for me.’

Ben’s gaze is pointed. ‘And what about college? You’re Leia’s daughter. Any number of schools would happily take you. And if you don’t like the idea of one of the Omega schools I could hire you a chaperone until you turn twenty-one, so you can go mainstream.’

‘You don’t want me,’ Rey suddenly feels angry. ‘You’re just the same as everyone else. Passing me onto the next person or institution. Abandoning your responsibility.’

A wave of anger seemed to pass through Ben at her words. ‘It isn’t about not wanting you, Rey. Regardless of what we think of the situation, I am now responsible for you, and I want to make sure I dispense that duty carefully.’

‘Dispense is just another word for abandon,’ Rey bit back. 

Ben inhaled sharply, his patience clearly tested. ‘You are so full of potential. Don’t you even see how far you could go? I’ve known you just a few days and can see how much raw talent you have. That Lycoming in Han’s hangar? Four days ago it was a rusted out piece of junk and today it would pass any aviation safety test out there. I’ve never seen that before, Rey.’

‘You went down to the hangar?’ Rey snapped. ‘Han’s hangar?’

‘My hangar now, Rey,’ Ben reminds her. ‘And yes, Leia left the hangar and all its contents to me. You might as well know, I’m putting this place on the market as soon as I can.’

Rey opened and closed her mouth in shock, unable to speak for a full moment. ‘And the planes?’ She finally asked. 

‘Most are being donated to museums. The ones with no cultural or historical value will be sold.’

Rey stood, her cup of coffee clattering to the floor. ‘But they... they were Han’s... he loved those planes.’

‘Yes,’ Ben agreed. ‘He loved them more than anything, didn’t he?’

Rey opened her mouth to retort before Ben’s words, both spoken and unspoken, made her stop. Because she understood. She really did.

‘He just wasn’t cut out to be a parent,’ Ben carried on. ‘Don’t hate him for that. He should’ve been the uncle or step-father. Not the parent.’

‘I didn’t hate him.’

‘I did,’ Ben confessed. ‘For a long time, I really hated him. There were four great loves to Han Solo’s life... his planes, Chewie, Qi’ra and Leia. In that order too, I would imagine. There was never any room for anything else. For anyone else.’

‘He was kind to me. He taught me to re-wire an engine and fly a plane,’ Rey answered, tears brimming in her eyes.

Ben looked at her gently. ‘Likewise. But don’t ever mistake kindness for love, Rey. You’ll only ever make yourself unhappy if you do.’

‘I’ve had a lifetime of well-intentioned kindness,’ now Rey gave a bitter laugh. ‘I don’t even know what love is.’

‘One day you will.’

They sat in almost companionable silence, before Rey looked at him with interest. ‘If I go with you,’ she said slowly. ‘Back to your... your place. What will I be? Your sister? Your friend? Or...’

‘You would be my guest,’ Ben said simply.

‘And my friends?’

‘What friends?’

‘Well, Poe I suppose- or maybe...’

‘No,’ Ben shook his head. ‘No, I won’t have him in my house. But if you chose to visit him...’ Ben suddenly swallowed, clearly uncomfortable, but trying desperately to be reasonable. ‘Well, that would be up to you.’

‘But you wouldn’t like it.’

‘No. I wouldn’t like it.’

‘And other Alphas?’

‘No other Alphas,’ his voice is stern. ‘Not in my presence, at least. I won’t tolerate them.’

‘Alright,’ Rey swallowed. ‘What about Betas, then? What if I want to...’ she frowned, uncomfortably aware that Plutt’s has made her somewhat ignorant where sex and men were concerned. ‘What if I want to...?’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Date?’ He offered.

‘Yes. Date,’ Rey stammered on the unfamiliar word.

‘Well,’ Ben took a mouthful of coffee. ‘I suppose I could play the role of dutiful big brother.’

‘And not tear their arms off?’

He smiled. ‘Perhaps only another appendage.’

‘Ben...’

‘Look Rey, I can only say I’ll try, okay? Just don’t bring other Alphas home, alright?’

‘So long as you don’t bring home other Omegas.’

She didn’t mean to say it so possessively. She meant it to sound flippant, to turn his words back onto him, to make him see the ridiculousness of their situation.

But she failed, and once again she feels childish and immature next to him.

‘That won’t be an issue, I told you,’ Ben reminded her, as if he needed to. ‘But it would be disingenuous of me not to tell you right now that I have a healthy number of women who visit me at home. You’ll have to get used to them. Curb that jealous streak of yours.’

‘What jealous streak?’ Rey practically spat. ‘I’m not jealous.’

‘Yes, you are,’ Ben replied, infuriatingly calm. ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s just a biological reaction. An Omega instinct. If it were anything else... if you actually had real feelings for me... well that would make our situation... difficult, I suppose. As it is though, all you are having is a perfectly natural Omega reaction to a perceived threat to your Alpha male, misplaced though that reaction is. Don’t be ashamed of it. It’s just like what I was feeling for you when you were about to go into heat. Simple biology, without emotion.’

His cold assessment of their relationship makes Rey shudder. ‘And you still don’t think our biology will be a problem?’

‘No. Even if I did fuck Omegas you’re only eighteen, and I don’t tangle with teenagers. Let this be another lesson to you, Rey. A man might respond to your biology, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.’ He looked at her pointedly, and Rey flushed. She knew what he was trying to tell her. She knew he regretted his recent show of interest in her. ‘Most times, in fact, he’ll just go and fuck it out with someone else.’

That was all there was to say. Rey stood, trying not to feel bitterly disappointed. She reflected on Ben’s words, before recalling Maz and her warnings. Strange how even with the emergency heat blocker in her system, she still felt unaccountably and wildly attracted to this man. It seemed Ben had awakened something inside her, something which- now that it was out there- would be very hard to contain. But he’d been quite clear.

He wasn’t interested. He considered her a child. He would fuck out his misplaced biological reactions with other women.

Rey walked to the sink and dumped her coffee down the drain, watching the inky black liquid slide across the white marble of the sink and into the depths below.

‘I’ll go back to the UK then,’ she said quietly. When she turned back to Ben, he was nodding. 

If he was disappointed, he did an excellent job of hiding it. ‘I’ll organise the tickets.’

He’d ignored her for the next few days, only crossing paths with her once. She’d been in the hangar, finishing up work on the old Lycoming before it was to be sold. It was a warm day, and feeling the heat, Rey had stripped her overalls off and sat working in just her vest and shorts. She was grimy again, her skin layered with sweat, and she’d been so preoccupied with the work in front of her that she didn’t notice that the lighting had changed until she reached for a spanner and the sun blinded her. 

Ben had been standing in the doorway, looking at her with dark, intense eyes. His eyes didn’t skim over her body or take in her curves, but still, there was a obvious longing in him that was more than clear to Rey. 

Rey immediately dropped her hands across her front quickly, hugging her body as though to hide it from view. But Ben didn’t look away from her, there was no embarrassed aversion of his eyes or even shame in them.

And so, slowly and deliberately, Rey dropped her hands. She dropped them, biting her lip, watching Ben’s body tense ever-so-slightly. 

‘Did you want something?’ She asked, her voice sweet.

He surprised her by giving a knowing laugh. ‘Leia’s lawyer is here to run through some papers with you,’ he told her. 

Feeling the fool, Rey blushed and nodded. She dropped her spanner, throwing her overalls back over head. As she passed Ben, he grabbed her hand, spinning her towards him.

‘Don’t play feeding time at the zoo, Rey,’ he said dangerously, his breath a hot whisper on her skin. ‘Not unless you want a hand bitten off.’

By the time Rey had finished with Leia’s lawyer, Ben had gone, and Rey didn’t need to be told he was out fucking an acquaintance somewhere.

And then when he returned, he went back to ignoring her. So now, with Poe looking so concerned, there was no lie in Rey’s voice when she told him not to worry about her.

‘He’s hardly spoken to me,’ Rey tells Poe, ‘let alone lain a finger on me.’

‘He’s put the Big House on the market,’ Poe tells her. ‘He has no interest in keeping any ties to the past. It would have broken whatever pieces of Leia’s heart he hadn’t already shattered.’

‘I don’t care. I’m going back to the U.K,’ Rey says softly. ‘There’s nothing for me here. And at least at home, I’m emancipated.’

‘Leia wanted you to stay with Ben,’ Poe reminds her, before giving her a wide smile. ‘But she was wrong in that. I’m glad you’re standing up for yourself. I’m glad you aren’t going with him.’

‘What will you do now?’ 

‘Look for another role, once Leia’s estate is wrapped up. Maybe I’ll even...’ he coughs. ‘Maybe I’ll look for a role in Europe. Get a change of scenery.’

‘London?’ Rey asks.

‘Perhaps. I would like to... that is, it would be really nice if... fuck, this is difficult...’

‘Poe,’ Rey stops him. ‘Yes. I would like to see you again too. In fact-’

She stops as something occurs to her. Maz’s words, combined with Ben’s, create a dangerous idea in her mind. Rey looks at Poe, the epitome of her childhood fantasies, with his handsome features and hopeful smile, and suddenly fucking it out with someone else has never seemed more appealing.

‘In fact?’ Poe asks.

‘Look Poe, you can say no to this, don’t feel obliged... but you know that emergency heat blocker I had?’

Poe nods wordlessly.

‘Well,’ Rey continues. ‘Well, eventually it will wear off and I was wondering if when it does,’ she pauses, taking a deep breath. ‘Would you like to... would you like to help me through it?’

Poe stares at her. He stares so long that Rey starts to feel nervous, and brings a hand to her hair, simply to keep her hand from shaking with nerves.

‘Rey, do you understand entirely what you are asking of me?’ Poe finally speaks.

‘Yes,’ she feels vaguely affronted. ‘I’m an Omega, not an idiot.’

‘No, I didn’t mean... look, you know I like you. I mean, I more than like you. And I think about you. I think about you a lot.’

‘So? Does that mean you’ll do it? Help me out, I mean. When the time comes.’

Poe gives her another long look. ‘Solo won’t like it.’

‘He doesn’t get a say in it,’ Rey’s reply is instant and cold.

Poe whistles under his breath. ‘You know I would love to do it, Rey. I can’t think of anything I want to do more.’

‘Good,’ Rey says. 

‘Good,’ Poe’s grin is suddenly wide. ‘Are you going to tell him?’

‘Who?’ She asks, though she knows full well who he refers to.

‘Solo. Even if you go back to the U.K, he’s still one of the trustees on your inheritance. He’ll find out about us, eventually.’

‘It’s none of his business, is it?’

When she speaks again, her tone is bitter, cold, and more than flavoured with her hurt. 

‘After all,’ she says. ‘I’m not his Omega, am I?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... how many people think Ben will let Rey have her heat with Poe? Genuinely curious as to what you all think.


	9. Heatseeker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so some smut. But not what you think.
> 
> Mentions of rough sex and of sex under the influence, so if this is triggering, do not read.
> 
> I loved all the comments from last time. I hope you all like what I do with that when it happens (not this chapter though)
> 
> I’m dropping some massive clues in this chapter.
> 
> Like huge.
> 
> Like this chapter is part of the key to unravelling the Hosnia Prime/Why Ben doesn’t do Omegas mystery.
> 
> I’m going away today for a few days so am posting this early.
> 
> Hope you enjoy. I realise this is a darker fic so I appreciate you all staying with me.

_ She is not enough for him. _

 

_ Her legs are wrapped around his waist while his hands roam up and down the slope of her back. She kisses him hard, biting down on his lower lip, and he groans into her mouth. It is a heady sound, absolutely decadent and hot in her mouth. He makes another groan when she sucks lightly on his tongue, a sound so Alpha-like that she feels her body flood with desire. He is so much, this Alpha, so perfect and fuckable and so wholly right for her. She bites harder on his lip, writhing against the straining bulge in his pants, feeling his hands trail from her back, around her stomach and towards her breasts. She burns for him to touch her, so much that when his fingers brush ever-so-lightly over her nipples, she throws her head back and pants. _

 

_ He is perfect. He is everything she has ever desired. And she... _

 

_ She is not enough for him. _

 

_ She feels the frustration in his growl when he knows her attention has slipped. The muscles of his hands tense against her skin as he abruptly throws her off his lap, hard against the bed. He knows what she wants- he always knows what she wants- and so he rips at her shirt, tearing it from her body. It is rough and primal and absolutely everything she needs at that moment. They both know how ardently her body responds to his Alpha instincts; how wet she becomes when he gives into his animalistic urges. And she knows he likes her wet. As wet as she can possibly be. He’s an Alpha, after all, and she... _

 

_ She is not enough for him. _

 

_ She closes her eyes, trying to fall back into the moment. She runs her hand down his chest, pulling him closer, wanting every inch of him pressed against her. He pulls and plucks at her nipples until it is painful, and once he has crossed that threshold he sucks at them. She holds onto him while he laps at her, murmuring nonsensical entreaties. She has becomes a mess beneath him, a desperate, keening mess, and she can only hope he is loving this as much as she is. Please, let him love this, she thinks. Please let him love me. _

 

_ He stops to pull at his own clothing, and her mouth goes dry at the sight of him. He’s large in every sense of the word, but perfectly proportioned. He strips inexpertly but quickly, and before the last of his clothing has even hit the floor he is inside her, pushing into her body with one heaving thrust that makes her cry out in pain.  _

 

_ He immediately stops, and looks down at her. ‘I’m hurting you-’ he begins, trying to pull out.  _

 

_ Out, and away from her. _

 

_ ‘No, no,’ she hastily replies. ‘No, it’s fine. Please keep going. Please.’ _

 

_ She knows she is begging, but with him she has so little pride. She wants him in every way she can have him, especially like this. Even if it hurts her. _

 

_ Even if it kills her. _

 

_ He moves slowly, deliberately keeping his pace slow, holding back. She can’t bear him to hold anything back from her. ‘No, no, no,’ she pleads. ‘Please... please fuck me like you would if-’ _

 

_ She doesn’t finish her sentence. He won’t let her, swallowing her words up with a desperate kiss. He starts to move faster, growling against her skin, and even through the pain she loves every moment. Every moment of him, inside her, exactly where he is meant to be. _

 

_ Except that he isn’t meant to be there, is he? _

 

_ ‘Call me Omega,’ she begs, and a look crosses his face. A look they have shared before, of desperation on her part, and hurt on his. He opens his mouth as if to oblige, before ducking his head against her shoulder and biting down on the skin there. She loves that, and opens her legs wider, trying to draw him further in. She wants everything he has to offer. She wants him to take everything she offers him. She wants him to fuck her so much that he becomes part of her body, leaving himself forever within. _

 

_ For she is certain that this- what this between them- must be forever.  _

 

_ It has to be. It must be. _

 

_ ‘Call me Omega,’ she says again, ‘fuck me harder and knot me,’ and it is an order this time. He responds to her words, shuddering with pleasure as he moves even quicker. They are a mess of sweat and blood and tears and arousal, and when he bites against her shoulder again, uttering ‘Omega’ against her skin- _

 

_ She screams. _

 

_ She screams in agony as his knot swells against her, ripping into flesh it was never meant for. She screams in frustration and pain and hurt and in a rage at the fucking unfairness of it all. _

 

_ And when she has finished screaming, while he holds a towel against her to stop the bleeding, she cries.  _

 

_ She cries against his shoulder until the blood has stopped and that ashen look of shame and terror has dropped from his face. _

 

_ ‘I love you,’ he tells her, his voice broken. ‘I love you. Only you. This part of it... it doesn’t matter.’ _

 

_ ‘Of course it matters,’ she replies.  _

 

_ Because of course it does. He tries to pretend it doesn’t, he tries to pretend that he wants her and only her, he tries to pretend that he is fully satisfied with the simple Beta style of fucking, but... but she knows better. _

 

_ She is not enough for him. _

 

_ She pretends too. She pretends to be an Omega, subservient to her Alpha. She pretends to not be terrified of his rut when it happens. She pretends not to notice how his eyes linger on every pretty Omega they come across. She pretends not to see how his friends laugh when he brings her to see them, especially that smug bastard with the dark eyes and a different fucking Omega on his arm every week. She pretends that she can be everything he wants and needs.  _

 

_ But her body- her useless, Beta body- is always honest. _

 

_ ‘I don’t need to knot,’ he whispers into her hair. ‘I don’t need an Omega when I have you.’ _

 

_ But she shakes her head. ‘Yes. Yes you do. And I’m going to find you-’ _

 

‘Rey? Rey? Are you okay?’

 

With a start, Rey drops the book she is reading. She sits in Leia’s study, surrounded by boxes and packing tape, a long-forgotten cup of tea grown cold beside her.

 

‘Kaydel? What?’ Rey stutters, feeling immediately guilty at having been caught reading when she should have been packing. ‘Yes, I’m fine. Just sorting out all of these old books of Leia’s. There are so many.’

 

Kaydel smiles, leaning on the doorframe. ‘I don’t know why she bothered with them. We both know Leia never read anything that wasn’t an official document or memo.’

 

‘I think she liked the aesthetic,’ Rey reflects. ‘Most of the books are political and historical biographies, with a few architecture ones dotted about. The spines are all intact though, and the pages spotless, so I’m not certain she read any of them.’

 

‘I can almost guarantee that she didn’t,’ Kaydel walks into the room, a brief look of sadness crossing her features. ‘She didn’t have time for such simple pleasures as reading.’

 

‘This one though,’ Rey clears her throat, suddenly embarrassed. ‘This one surprises me. For one thing, I found it hidden behind an old Jefferson letters textbook. Also, it’s been read. There are highlighted pages and everything.’

 

‘Hmm,’ Kaydel frowns. ‘Let me see.’

 

With a slight blush, Rey passes the book over to Kaydel. Kaydel turns the book over in her hands, nodding with unimpressed recognition.

 

‘Heatseeker, by Kylo Ren,’ Kaydel’s voice is flat. ‘This was his first novel, you know. Before he started with all the political thrillers- you know, the ones that actually made money. Didn’t sell particularly well, this one. Copies are hard to find. I’m not surprised Leia had a copy though.’

 

‘I am. Leia would never let me read Kylo Ren novels,’ Rey says. ‘She thought they were trash.’

 

The look Kaydel gives Rey is of genuine surprise and wonder. ‘You don’t know, do you?’

 

‘Know what?’

 

‘About Kylo Ren?’ Kaydel continues. ‘You know he’s her son, right?’

 

‘Whose son?’

 

‘Leia’s.’

 

Rey stares at Kaydel blankly. ‘Kylo Ren is Leia’s son? That’s not possible. Ben is Leia’s son.’

 

‘Ben is Kylo Ren,’ Kaydel explains patiently. ‘At least, he writes under the name Kylo Ren. It’s not common knowledge... Ben likes to keep a low-profile these days. Well, after all the scandals, I can’t say I blame him for that. The whole Hosnia Prime incident-’

 

Kaydel pauses, uncertain. 

 

‘It’s okay,’ Rey reassures. ‘I know all about that.’

 

‘I’m not sure anyone knows ‘all’ about that,’ Kaydel sighs. ‘But the police were satisfied there was no foul play, so I guess the truth doesn’t really matter.’

 

‘The truth?’ Rey asks.

 

‘Oh, I’m no different,’ Kaydel shakes her head. ‘I only know what happened through the reports too. But I also read some of Leia’s private correspondence years afterwards during a routine paperwork audit, and, yeah...’ 

 

Kaydel trails off upon seeing the interested look in Rey’s eyes.

 

‘What did Leia think?’

 

‘Well,’ Kaydel swallows. ‘She didn’t like the crowd Ben had managed to ingratiate himself with. She had detailed reports done on all of them- surreptitiously, of course. She had a particularly large file on Armitage Hux and his girlfriend... she thought the two of them were really bad news. Deviants, even.’ Kaydel looked again at the book in her hand. ‘But Ben was no better, I suppose. Leia really hated how he ran through Omegas.’

 

‘A different Omega on his arm every week,’ Rey quotes, remembering Heatseeker.

 

Kaydel looks at her sharply. ‘Well, I don’t think it was that bad. But the press certainly made it seem that way.’

 

‘Did Leia believe Ben to be involved in Hosnia’s death?’ Rey asks bluntly.

 

‘She didn’t think he killed her, like other people seemed to, if that’s what you mean. But she also didn’t believe Hosnia ingested that much Starkiller willingly either. She had enough in her system to get at least ten people high- she was such a slight girl too. It’s no wonder her system couldn’t handle it.’

 

Rey quietly lets this news sink in. 

 

‘Well,’ Kaydel looks around the room again. ‘Will you be okay tomorrow? I’ll be around at 9am to pick you up. Obviously you don’t drive, so I’ll have the car take us to...’

 

‘I drive,’ Rey interrupts coldly.

 

‘What?’

 

‘Of course I drive,’ Rey says. ‘Han Solo had me flying planes at fourteen. I built my first bi-plane at fifteen. You think a car will trouble me?’ 

 

‘Oh, well,’ Kaydel blushes. ‘It’s just that you’ve been so... so, I guess sheltered? I just assumed...’

 

‘Everyone always makes assumptions where I’m concerned,’ Rey says bitterly, before sitting back in surprise and taking a deep breath. For wasn’t that exactly what Ben had said to her just the day before?

 

‘Sorry Rey... I’m not used to this,’ Kaydel’s voice is genuine. ‘It’s just that with Leia I could say anything... but you... well, I hardly know you and technically I guess you’re my boss until the estate wraps up.’

 

‘Oh,’ Rey frowns. ‘That hadn’t occurred to me. I’m sorry too.’

 

‘It’s going to be strange, not working for Leia anymore. She hired me right out of college and...’ a look of bewilderment crosses Kaydel’s pretty features. ‘I’ve never done anything else. I don’t know what to do now.’

 

Kaydel looks on the verge of tears, and Rey feels distinctly uncomfortable, as though she has intruded on another’s grief. But she is nothing if not resourceful, and so stands, stretching out her long legs.

 

‘I’m going to make us both tea,’ she says lightly.

 

‘I normally only drink coffee,’ Kaydel gives a small smile. ‘I’ve never enjoyed tea. The flavour is always so... well...’

 

Rey feels a strange, nationalistic swell of pride. ‘Well, clearly you’ve never had a good cup of tea made by a real-life English person.’

 

She walks down to the kitchen, putting the kettle on to boil and digging the tea out from the cupboard. Somewhere, Rey knows that Leia has a fancy tea-set, with a gold-leaf embossed teapot and delicate china cups. She also knows that there is Earl Grey in the cupboard, bought direct from Fortnum and Mason on Leia’s last trip to London. But Rey ignores both of these things in favour of two old battered mugs and industrial strength Yorkshire Tea, throwing a packet of biscuits onto the tray for good measure. Earl Grey is for fancy coffee mornings and afternoon tea; grief, Rey decides, requires builder’s brew and sugar.

 

‘Having company?’ A low voice suddenly intones behind her, and Rey sighs. She knows she should be used to his gravelly, infinitely seductive voice by now, but... 

 

She fears she never will.

 

‘Kaydel and I are clearing Leia’s study,’ she tells him. 

 

He nods, coming across the room to fill a glass of water. She tries to ignore his large hand as it brushes against hers.  ‘You don’t need to do that, you know.’

 

‘You’re still putting the place on the market after the funeral?’ Rey asks. He nods again. ‘Well, the funeral is tomorrow. So, yes, I need to do this.’

 

‘No, what I meant was, there are companies you can hire who can do those things for you.’

 

Rey is aghast. ‘Strangers should not go through the private things of Leia Organa,’ she says viciously.

 

To her surprise, Ben agrees. ‘No, they shouldn’t. Actually I was planning on having Kaydel and some of her team do that. They know better than the both of us what was important to Leia.’

 

‘Family,’ Rey says softly, ‘family was important to Leia.’

 

Ben moves closer to Rey’s side, capturing her face in his large hands. ‘It pains me,’ his voice is no more than a whisper, ‘to hear how deluded you are about her still.’

 

‘It pains me,’ Rey whispers back, ‘to see how determined you are to hurt her still, even in death.’

 

He sighs, dropping his hands. She hates that she instantly misses their warmth, the feel of his skin against hers. 

 

‘Not this again, Rey.’

 

Rey examines him. Her temper is frayed, and her words come out harder than she intends. ‘Are you still determined not to go to the funeral?’

 

‘I’ve no place there.’

 

‘You are her son-’

 

‘What does that matter? We hadn’t talked for years. I didn’t go to Han’s funeral. Why would I go to hers?’

 

‘She loved you,’ Rey replies. 

 

He sighs again, running a hand through his dark hair in pure frustration. ‘She had a funny way of showing it. She hadn’t reached out to me for years. She didn’t go to my graduation. She didn’t go to my we-’

 

‘Only because you didn’t want her there!’ Rey snaps, and he looks at her with empty eyes.

 

‘I invited her,’ he says simply. ‘She chose not to come. Just like I choose not to go tomorrow, Rey.’

 

She opens her mouth to speak before closing it. Let him have the last word, she thinks suddenly. She is flying home to the U.K. in just two days, she never needs to see him again. Let him have the last word now. Let him live with the consequences.

 

‘Are you all packed yourself?’ He asks quietly, clearly changing the conversation.

 

‘Yes,’ she says coolly. She picks up the tray, moving back towards the study. ‘Yes I am, Kylo Ren.’

 

She doesn’t stop or turn back to see his reaction to that. She doesn’t want to, and as she moves through the building, nor does he follow her.

 

Kaydel is still sitting in the study, her face tear-stained. She has clearly had a good cry in Rey’s absence. 

 

‘Have some tea,’ Rey suggests kindly, though her heart still pounds wildly, adrenaline pumping through her system from her run in with Ben.

 

Ben, or Kylo Ren. Whoever he truly is.

 

A thought suddenly occurs to her, bright and glaring in its awfulness. ‘Oh, God,’ she whispers.

 

‘What?’ Kaydel asks curiously.

 

‘Oh God,’ Rey says again, groaning. ‘Ben is Kylo Ren. I’m such an idiot.’

 

‘Why? You couldn’t have known if no one told you.’

 

‘I know, it’s just...’ Rey swallows, flushing red. ‘Just before our flight from Heathrow, Ben saw me purchase about five Kylo Ren novels, one of which I only bought to spite him. He must have known I didn’t know. He must have thought it was hilarious.’

 

‘You bought one of his own novels to spite him? Spite like that will nicely line his pockets,’ Kaydel grinned. ‘Why is this a problem? Ren novels are popular, and don’t tell him I told you this, but he’s actually very, very good at what he does.’

 

‘Well, like I said, he must think I’m an idiot.’

 

‘So? Why should anything he thinks bother you?’ Kaydel shrugged. ‘Three days from now you’ll be back in the U.K and all set up to start a Mechanical Engineering Course in September, if you decide to. You never have to see Ben Solo- or Kylo Ren- ever again.’

 

Rey nods, though she feels hollow at Kaydel’s words. ‘Yes,’ she swallows thickly. ‘Yes, you’re right.’

 

She holds out her hand for Heatseeker, which Kaydel glances at briefly before handing over.

 

‘It’s a bit dark, that one,’ Kaydel gestured to the novel now safely back in Rey’s hands. ‘You probably haven’t read it, but-’

 

‘I just read the first few chapters. You’re right... it is very...’ Rey pauses, looking for the right word,  ‘...Dark.’

 

Though even ‘dark’ doesn’t really seem to cover how awful Heatseeker made Rey feel. From the first word, there was an all-encompassing aura of fear, anger, and hate about the book. A true and painful transference of desperation, loneliness and longing from the page right into her soul. And the sex... Rey shudders. She is a virgin who knows nothing of sex, save what little she has picked up from books, and in her ignorance she dreads the thought that sex could be like that. So covetous and consuming and driven by desperation and passion rather than love. 

 

Heatseeker lulled Rey into a false sense of security by starting out as a love-story. The early chapters detailed the sweet romance between an Alpha boy and a Beta girl, a romance which was ripped apart the moment their relationship became physical and the differences in their biology- real and imagined- came into play. For while the Alpha easily let go of his natural urges, the Beta struggled to let him do so. And as the two became more and more consumed with each other, the book became a sort of nightmare. For the Beta resorted to increasingly dangerous methods of seduction and persuasion, all concocted solely with the aim to hold onto her lover.

 

‘Dark,’ Kaydel agrees. ‘Did you read the dedication? I always thought it was such an odd book to make that kind of a declaration in. She must have been some woman.’ Kaydel glanced around the room again. ‘Legally, this is all his now. But I’m sure he won’t mind you taking what you want. Look, I’m going to make some lunch to have with this tea,’ she grimaces at her still full mug, ‘and keep emptying out the office. Do you want a sandwich?’

 

Rey nods slowly, counting each agonising second until Kaydel has left the room. When the door swings closed behind her, Rey delves back into the beginning of Heatseeker and searches for the dedication. 

 

What she finds makes her feel vaguely sick.

 

_ For Alexandra. My love, my everything, my life, my wife. _

 

***

 

Later that night, Rey picks up Heatseeker again.

 

_ The next time they fuck, she takes the lead.  _

 

_ She is normally so determined to be the perfect submissive Omega that her sudden aggressiveness both surprises and arouses him.  _

 

_ She claws at his skin, bites down with her teeth, and pulls at his hair while she rides him, and the pleasure that builds within him is intoxicating and almost painful in its intensity. _

 

_ She reaches down to palm at her own breasts while moving up and down on him, and the image is so spectacular- her head thrown back, her platinum blonde hair glowing in the light- that he feels the familiar tingle in his groin, the sudden pressure in his cock, that tells him his orgasm is fast approaching. _

 

_ ‘I’m going to-’ _

 

_ ‘No.’ _

 

_ She speaks quietly but firmly. Her word is an order, and he listens.  _

 

_ ‘No. Not yet,’ she smiles. She shimmies off his body, her legs smeared with their fluids, and wraps a towel around her body. He groans not just at the loss of contact, but also at the covering of her tall, statuesque body. _

 

_ ‘I have a gift for you,’ she explains, a happy smile playing on her face. She goes to the door, and a moment later, pulls a young woman from behind it.  _

 

_ He recognises the girl instantly. She’s one of the Omegas that... his mouth goes dry. For she’s also naked, wet, and smiling dopily at him. ‘Alpha,’ she says happily, coming towards him. His body roars with approval, though his mind... his mind... _

 

_ He looks back for permission. She nods, watching intently, her eyes dark. _

 

_ There is nothing else for it. _

 

_ He reaches for the Omega _ .

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’m a coffee drinker too. I don’t get tea (hears the cries of a million British).
> 
> Next week the funeral, and then the start of our burgeoning Reylo section of this fic.
> 
> Because I promise, thus is a Reylo fic.
> 
> See you Wednesday.x


	10. Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long chapter which I have cut in half. It’s fairly obvious that this has been done, and I will try and post the next chapter (which has answers) fairly soon.
> 
> Also, some naked confession coming up...

Rey finishes  _ Heatseeker  _ overnight. She does not stop to sleep or eat, simply reading the book by the light of her lamp until the dawning sun renders it unnecessary. 

 

When she is done she closes the book, takes a deep breath and then packs her bag. She throws in a few necessary items- her passport, for one thing, as well as a few days worth of clothing and her suppressants- before picking up that old battered doll and blanket from the children’s home and packing them too. The rest she leaves without a second glance.

 

She wants nothing from this house. There is nothing here, she decides, that is really hers. The clothes no longer fit and she is too old for the dolls and toys. This is a child’s bedroom and she is no longer a child. She might not be a woman- not yet, at any rate- but she is not a child. Besides, everything else in this room belongs to Ben now, and Rey-

 

Rey wants nothing to do with him.

 

Not now.

 

Not after _ Heatseeker _ .

 

It is not quite five in the morning when Rey takes a taxi away from the Big House and to a nearby hotel. She checks into a room, where she falls into an exhausted sleep before the trilling of her phone wakes her.

 

‘Hello?’ She asks blearily, rubbing her eyes.

 

‘Rey? Rey?’ 

 

It’s Kaydel’s voice, but without her normally smooth, collected tone. The immaculate P.A who went three days without sleep during the last election and still remained calm is not to be found this morning. No, this morning Kaydel sounds absolutely frantic.

 

‘Kaydel?’

 

‘Rey? Are you okay? Where are you?’ 

 

‘Oh. I checked into a hotel,’ Rey replies easily.

 

‘A hotel? A hotel? Why? Are you okay? God, Rey- do you know what it was like to wake and find out you’d just disappeared this morning? I thought Ben was going to- but you’re okay?’

 

‘I’m fine.’

 

A silence falls on the line, before Rey hears Kaydel sigh. ‘What are you doing, Rey?’ She asks her. ‘Are you sure there isn’t something wrong?’

 

Rey pauses, clutching her phone to her ear and biting her lip while considering how much to tell Kaydel. 

 

‘The Big House legally belongs to Ben,’ Rey decides to stick with the facts for the moment, keeping her fears to herself. ‘And I fly back to London tomorrow. There was no point in dragging out the inevitable, and I don’t want to intrude on his hospitality further. I’ll meet you at the funeral and then- wait,’ Rey stops. ‘How do you know I’m not at the Big House, Kaydel? You didn’t sleep there last night, did you?’

 

Now Kaydel pauses. ‘Poe called me,’ she says slowly. ‘Apparently when you didn’t come down for breakfast this morning Ben found your bed empty and unslept in. He... well, he...’

 

‘What did he do?’ Rey’s voice is blunt.

 

‘He went straight to Poe’s house. Nearly broke the door down trying to see if you were there.’

 

A lead weight settles in Rey’s stomach. ‘Is Poe okay?’ She asks shakily.

 

‘Yes... he called the police and then they took Ben away before calling me. Poe and I were so worried about you... Rey, this country is different to the U.K, honey. You can’t just go where you like without telling people. You’re an Omega and sometimes when they go missing... well, bad things happen and...’

 

‘Did they arrest Ben?’ Rey interrupts. She has no interest in learning about antiquated Omega relations in the US. 

 

‘No,’ Kaydel admits. ‘Legally he is still your guardian, and as an Alpha they thought his behaviour- given the circumstances- was understandable. He was worried about you, Rey.’

 

‘But I’m not his to worry about.’

 

Rey can almost feel Kaydel tensing down the phone line. ‘We were worried about you too, Rey. Poe especially.’

 

‘You don’t need to worry. I can take care of myself,’ Rey says. 

 

There is a delicate break in the conversation that indicates Kaydel might feel differently. However, she clearly decides to let the moment slide, exhaling with great patience. ‘Look Rey, I gave this number to Ben-’

 

‘You did what?!’

 

‘He was frantic and until you either return to the UK or make a legal challenge to Leia’s will he is your guardian,’ Kaydel says firmly. ‘I had to give him your number.’

 

Rey takes a deep breath, allowing her head to rest against the cool wood of the cupboard door. Everything about this room is depressing in its stark functionality. It is soulless and uninspiring and impersonal and the knowledge that it repeats, room after room, floor after floor, fills her with a distinctly low ennui. She fingers the grey shift dress hanging before her- Kaydel’s choice of outfit for Rey to wear to the funeral later- hating the dull fabric and shapeless cut, and for a moment wants to fling the offending garment from the window. Rey, perpetually sheltered by those who claim ownership of her, is suddenly very tired of her colourless existence. 

 

It is not enough, Rey decides, to simply to exist. She longs for more. For more than she has ever been offered by those who mean well but do little. Now, she longs for colour and music and fun and love and sex- yes, even sex.  _ Heatseeker  _ might have terrified her to her very soul but it has also awakened in her some thrilling knowledge: that sex, particularly that between an Alpha and Omega, is something she is very keen to experience. Quite frankly, she now regrets her haste in taking Dr. Kanata’s emergency heat blocker and can’t wait for the effects to wear off. She recalls the promise in Ben’s eyes when he licked her, the thrill of feeling his tongue mark her skin. It was intoxicating and exciting and Rey wants more. More of that and more of Ben and-

 

Rey stops. Because it won’t be Ben during her heat, will it? He has made it very clear that he won’t touch her and after reading  _ Heatseeker _ , Rey thinks she knows why. After  _ Heatseeker _ , she shouldn’t want Ben the way she does.

 

So it will be Poe, and Rey cannot help but feel a sliver of satisfaction that this will inevitably hurt Ben. She’s not normally a vengeful person; she would rather not hurt anyone, but there is a measure of pride at stake here. So far, Ben has hurt her far more than she could ever hurt him. He’s tempted her and pulled her close before pushing her away. Intentionally or not, Ben has wounded her again and again, always having the last word, always coming out on top; it is high time, Rey believes, for her to make a cut of her own. And this, she knows, will cut deep.

 

‘Rey?’ Kaydel continues. ‘Look, as soon as I gave him this number I called you. But as soon as we disconnect I imagine Ben will try and-’

 

‘I have to go,’ Rey tells Kaydel quietly. ‘I’ll meet you and Poe at the church later.’

 

‘Rey, I-’

 

But Rey hangs up. She takes another steadying breath, walking to the window and looking out. She checks the time on her phone, surprised to find it is only a little after ten. The funeral begins at one, so she has three hours to dress and make her way to the church. She has three hours in which eat and shower. Three hours in which to consider her life and the direction it is taking. It sounds like nothing, but three hours, to Rey at this moment, feels like a lifetime.

 

Before she can think another moment, her phone vibrates in her hand. The number reads unknown, but the caller is not. Who else could it be but Ben?

 

She really doesn’t want to see him. Not after  _ Heatseeker.  _ Not after that dedication. But she also knows that he won’t let her go without a farewell scene of his own making. He won’t let her leave unless it is on his terms. Not because he is an Alpha and she an Omega. Not because she is his almost-sister and he her pseudo-brother. Only because this is the kind of man he is. It is simply because he is Ben, and this is how he approaches life. This is how he deals with women.  _ Or teenagers,  _ she reminds herself viciously.

 

He is Ben, and she will not be afraid to face him.

 

She lets the call go to answerphone before tapping out a text to the number.

 

_ Room 827. _

 

And then she clenches her hand as she touches another button.

 

_ Send Location. _

 

Twenty minutes later, there is a knock on her door. 

 

When she opens it he stands there, one hand on the doorframe, looking at her with an aura of suppressed menace. His dark eyes are nearly black with the chilling fury in which he gazes at her. She waits for him to speak, or yell, or break into the rage she knows he is more than capable of, but instead he says nothing. He doesn’t speak or move or give any indication of the pent-up anger he is feeling. He does nothing but stare at her, and this to Rey is infinitely more unsettling than any temper tantrum or raised voice he can throw at her. 

 

After a full minute of loaded silence between them, the sudden noise of a housekeeping trolley alerts Rey to the presence of others and she averts her eyes from his. She moves to one side, indicating that he should come into the room, which he does. As he walks past, his shirt brushes against her and she shivers. He notices, because of course he does, how could he not? But he says nothing, ignoring the response of her body to his.

 

Rey always forgets just how tall and broad this man is until they are confined together in small spaces. She’s no elfin flower, with her long legs and willowy frame, but Ben... Rey steadies herself. For her functional hotel room, clean and utilitarian, is suddenly swamped by Ben’s presence. Pheromones, raw with anger, practically seep from his body and with every breath Rey feels as though she is drowning in them. Drowning in them and drowning in him. And she knows her own pheromones, of fear and excitement, are mingling with his. He must be able to sense her feelings. He must know how much she both fears and wants him all at once.

 

She waits for him to speak, but he says nothing. He simply sits in a chair by the window, his body rigid, hands tightly clenched, looking at her with eyes full of anger and admonition. There is so much contained emotion in this man that Rey almost fears the explosion that inevitably will come. And come it will, for she is not so much a fool as to imagine that he is here only to wish her well and safe travels.

 

He is in the room ten minutes without saying a word. And still Rey waits. Another ten minutes pass before she makes coffee for them both, handing him his cup wordlessly. And still he says nothing, taking the drink without thanks, careful to avoid the slightest touch of her fingers against his own. They drink their coffee in silence, staring at one another.

 

After another ten minutes Rey stands, unable to tolerate the oppressive atmosphere any longer, before going to the bathroom and locking the door. She takes a half-hour shower, running the water as hot as she can bear it, sitting under the stream to wash the smell of Ben- that intense, angry smell- from her skin. But the knowledge that he is just outside her door... that he is in the next room, large, quiet and hulking, while she is in here naked... that knowledge is much harder to shake from her being. Scent she can wash away, but lust... well, lust is much more than skin-deep. Lust is in her thoughts, her spine, her heart and blood. Lust is thick within her, untempered and wild.

 

When she emerges from the shower in a cloud of steam, her hair wet, wrapped only in the bathrobe the hotel have provided, she waits again for Ben to speak. To say anything that might break their stand-off, this unexpected battle of wills. But, semi-naked though she is, he still says nothing. His eyes lock with hers again and once more, she is treated to the full-force of Ben Solo’s tightly restrained fury. She breaks the contact to move to the mirror, brushing her hair while he watches. 

 

She remains at the vanity table to apply her makeup while Ben glares at her in the reflection. The only break in his silent demeanour comes when she lowers the neckline of her robe to dust on her foundation, exposing her shoulders and the nape of her neck. As she drops the fabric down, her fingers drift ever-so-slightly over the top of her mating gland and Ben... well, Ben takes a breath so deep Rey can see the shallow rise of his chest. The noise he makes is low and muffled, and there is more- much more- to his restraint than anger now. 

 

But still, even if his hands grip his chair so tight that his knuckles show white under his skin, he makes no move towards her. Nor does he say a thing, still watching her in absolute silence, goading her without any words to continue. His breathing is rapid and uneven, his eyes liquid when they meet with hers, but still... still he does nothing. Still he sits, happy to wait. Happy to watch.

 

It is unnerving.

 

It is terrifying.

 

It is also, without a doubt, the sexiest thing Rey has ever seen.

 

When her makeup is complete there is just one thing left to do. Rey breaks eye contact with Ben to look to the cupboard, and the shapeless dress within. She reaches toward it, her hand hesitating at the last moment. She can feel his eyes on her back, watching her. Waiting. Her back is already exposed to him, and Rey feels a frisson of excitement at how little it would take to expose the rest. It would be like walking into a lion’s den, Rey thinks. Only this lion, she knows, won’t ever take a bite. She is a meal he won’t eat. A meal he won’t savour.

 

But he might, Rey hopes, play a little with his food.

 

Rey’s heart beats rapidly in her chest. She wants at this moment to be brave. She wants at this moment to win the game- whatever game this is- that they are playing. She wants, she realises with a start, to see Ben Solo brought to his knees. 

 

She makes no excuses for this, and nor does she try to reason through her decision. She is working from pure instinct alone, and all she knows is that she wants him to want her as she wants him. She wants him to break that damn vow of his. She wants to be the Omega that brings him back from the brink and beyond. 

 

What she wants, she realises as she brings a hand to the tie on her robe, what she wants more than anything, is to be a good Omega for her Alpha. And so, while his eyes still burn into hers, she begins to loosen the knot of her gown and-

 

She isn’t quite sure what makes her lose her nerve. Perhaps it is the look in Ben’s eye, which has changed from angry hurt to angry hunger. Perhaps it is the sudden feeling of slick which has pooled between her thighs. Perhaps it is the obviousness of Ben’s arousal, firm and large under his trousers, which he is doing nothing at all to hide. But most likely it is the knowledge that, if she does this, he will inevitably reject her. He will reject her and then she will return to the UK with the sting of that rejection under her skin. Because Rey knows that this man has got under skin, and she fears that he might now lurk there forever. 

 

And so she stops, tying the gown together tightly and looking to the ground, her face burning.

 

‘You are not,’ she says viciously, her head still downcast, ‘going to watch me dress. You will turn away.’

 

And at her words, Ben finally responds. He gives her a dangerous, tight smile, his words clipped with chilling contempt.

 

‘I didn’t come here today to take you on the floor of a cheap hotel,’ he says icily. ‘Nor did I come to leer at your admittedly beautiful body,’ his eyes sweep up and down her form. ‘I came here today because in running away you were clearly wanting to make a point. So go ahead, Rey, make it. I’m giving you a chance to explain yourself, which is a damn sight more than you deserve at this moment.’

 

‘More than I deserve?’ Rey replies, her voice full of disbelief. ‘More than I deserve? Damn you, Ben Solo. I don’t belong to you, and I don’t have to explain myself to you, and-’

 

Ben laughs, but it is unpleasant sound. ‘You don’t belong to me? I have a whole file of paperwork currently sitting in an office that says otherwise.’

 

‘Being a legal guardian is not ownership-’

 

‘Of course it isn’t. And don’t offend me by telling me I have ever, in our brief relationship, treated you as though it is.’

 

‘You marked me,’ Rey replies. ‘You almost sent me into heat.’

 

‘I scented you,’ Ben corrects. ‘And at the time, it was for your own good. And as for your heat, well, you took care of that quite nicely on your own, didn’t you? Ah, Dr. Kanata...’ Ben’s voice is bitter, ‘always so quick to treat the Solo family for their unfortunate biology.’

 

‘And why not?’ Rey asks. Without thinking, she pulls her dress from the cupboard, clutching it tightly. ‘Why shouldn’t I have seen Maz? You’ve made it quite clear you don’t want me. That you won’t tangle with teenagers or fuck Omegas. My heat would have been useless to you.’

 

Riled up with anger and unthinking, Rey unties the dressing gown from her body and lets it drop. 

 

‘So,’ she carries on blithely. ‘So, fuck you, Ben Solo. Or rather, since I’m an Omega and that’s not an option, how about fuck your ambiguous morals and fuck your wretched big brother act. I left your house this morning because I didn’t want to see you again. I’m not making any kind of point, other than just wanting to leave you and all this behind. And if you can’t accept that...’

 

Rey trails off. She trails off because, now that she is naked, Ben has moved from his chair to stand before her. He looks at her for a moment- really looks at her- before leaning towards her, the heat of his body silencing her cold words.  

 

‘Rey,’ he says, his words a breath against her skin. ‘Rey, you left this morning because you wanted me to follow you. You wanted me to follow you, Rey.’

 

‘And like a typical Alpha,’ Rey swallows. ‘Like a good big brother, you did.’

 

‘No,’ Ben says slowly, shaking his head. He runs the slightest tip of a finger along her waist, stopping just short of the soft flesh of her hip. ‘No, you can’t have it both ways. Those two attributes don’t correlate, Rey. So, what do you want me to be right now? An Alpha? Or big brother?’

 

‘You don’t fuck Omegas,’ Rey reminds him, pulling her shapeless shift dress across her body, concealing it from his view. ‘So big brother will have to do.’

 

Ben steps back from her, spinning Rey around so that he do the zipper on her dress. He moves it slowly, one finger dipping across her skin as he pulls it slowly- agonisingly slowly- upwards.

 

‘I’m not your brother, Rey,’ his voice is husky, so low and confident and terrifyingly seductive. ‘Do you want to know something? In the last hour, I’ve thought about all the ways I could fuck you without actually fucking you. In the last hour, my mouth has been all over that tight little body of yours, and your mouth- your pretty little mouth- has been all over mine. All I’ve been able to think about since meeting you is how much I want you, and wondering how many ways I could take you without ever hurting you.’

 

He steps back from her, and she nearly moans at the loss of contact between them. 

 

‘But I do hurt people, Rey,’ he carries on softly, and his tone has changed. ‘I hurt Omegas, and-’

 

‘I don’t believe that,’ Rey interrupts. ‘I don’t believe you ever hurt an Omega in your life.’

 

‘You don’t know me,’ Ben answers her patiently. ‘You don’t know what I’ve done...’

 

Rey bites on her lip. ‘Ben,’ she says gently. ‘Do you want to know why I left this morning? Why I really left?’

 

He looks at her with open interest.

 

‘I left because I got frightened,’ Rey explains, and Ben frowns. 

 

‘What frightened you?’ He pauses, and from the look on his face, he is struggling with an unpalatable idea. ‘Do I frighten you? Is that it?’

 

Rey pauses. ‘No,’ she admits. ‘Ben, I was frightened of myself. Of what I am. Of what that means to people. Of what...’ she swallows. ‘Of how people react to me. Of what I could make someone do. What Omegas bring out in people. Like in your book.’

 

He doesn’t understand. She can see that he doesn’t. So, she turns away from him and reaches into her bag. She pulls out Leia’s old copy of  _ Heatseeker,  _ holding it out to him with open palms.

 

He looks at the book as though it is a poisonous asp, ready to strike at him.

 

‘I found it in Leia’s study,’ Rey explains.

 

‘Ah,’ he stares at the book with sad, empty eyes. ‘And did you read it?’

 

‘Yes.’

 

He nods. 

 

‘You’re married,’ Rey tells him, and he looks back toward her, askance.

 

‘No,’ he says tightly. ‘No. At least, I’m not anymore.’

 

‘You wrote this from experience,’ she says without accusation. ‘You wrote this as a plea for forgiveness.’

 

He shakes his head again. ‘No. No, Rey. I don’t expect forgiveness. I don’t deserve it.’

 

‘Everyone deserves forgiveness,’ Rey says.

 

‘Not everyone, Rey.’ Ben pauses, looking at her in absolute grief. ‘Not everyone, and especially not me. Especially not a man who killed his wife.’

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... guesses as to who Ben’s wife was? Think Canon. 
> 
> I’ve upped the chapter count as I keep cutting the work up. 
> 
> Next chapter there is some really lovely Reylo ‘You’re not alone’ coming up.
> 
> I hope you’re all staying with me. I’m so grateful for all the support this work has been getting.xx


	11. Not Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t leave the second half of this chapter till Sunday. 
> 
> It’s... well, it’s pretty dark this one.
> 
> Mentions of sociopathic/manipulative behaviour and suicide/implied murder. If this is a trigger, do not read.

_ The actress is different. _

 

_ The actress makes him think. _

 

_ The actress makes him smile. _

 

_ She’s pretty too, with her toffee colouring and dark hair. Sometimes he sneaks the actress away, just for a few moments, to kiss and caress and lick her. She’s so sweet, so pliant in his arms, that he knows he could easily spend all day simply touching her. She smells like sugar against him and tastes just as heavenly. _

 

_ But he doesn’t dare. For even when he thinks they are alone, he knows she is always watching. And where once she looked on the actress with a fond sort of tolerance, now he knows she looks on her through slanted eyes and with burgeoning dislike. _

 

_ ‘You’re getting too close to her,’ she tells him. ‘You aren’t treating her like you did the others.’ _

 

_ The others. By now there have been so many that he can hardly remember their names. But they weren’t important, not really. They were just easy fucks, women who sated his Alpha desires and her need to watch.  _

 

_ She always watches. He isn’t allowed to fuck them alone. Once or twice he has begged her to join in, to lessen his guilt, to add to their fun, but she always refuses. She doesn’t touch herself during these moments either, like he thought she might. Sometimes he finds himself performing for her benefit, trying to gauge a reaction from her. He’ll fuck the Omega like she enjoys being fucked, biting their nipples or sucking their clits or pulling hard on their hair. But she simply sits, a patient, tolerant smile on her face, looking cool and unflustered. _

 

_ It is only when he knots the Omega, whispering into their ears, caressing them gently, that she really pays attention. And he suddenly understands that what she really wants, what will really get her off, is something she can never have. And he doesn’t know how to feel about that, so he simply stops feeling at all. _

 

_ In truth, they hardly ever have sex together anymore. He misses her. He misses how it was between them, before the Omegas came along. But whenever he voices such things she only smiles at him, as though he is a stray puppy who must be petted and given a treat. _

 

_ And the treat is usually another Omega, found in some flashy nightclub or fashionable bar, presented to him in their bed, the sheets like satin gift wrap. _

 

_ But with the actress, he stops asking for her. He stops trying to cajole her into bed. He starts to pull at the end of the leash she keeps him on. He likes the actress. She makes him smile, and he hasn’t smiled in a long time. He isn’t supposed to get attached, but he does. _

 

_ She doesn’t like it. She doesn’t like it at all. _

 

_ ‘You need a change,’ she finally says. ‘I can fix this.’ _

 

_ But that night, when he finds yet another Omega in their bed, this one all big eyes and honey hair, he turns away.  _

 

_ He goes straight back to the actress, fucking her all night in a frustrated show of anger and independence and pure emotional need.  _

 

_ The next morning, when he returns, she cries on his shoulder. Pretty tears of sorrow. Pretty tears of love.  _

 

_ ‘Because I do love you,’ she tells him, the salt of her sadness on his shoulder. ‘Let me prove to you how much I love you.’ _

 

_ That morning he takes her to bed.  _

 

_ The next morning he marries her. _

 

***

 

‘You killed your wife?’ Rey asks, her voice desperately sad. ‘I don’t believe that... you would never...’

 

But Ben looks at her bluntly. ‘I told you I was a monster, didn’t I? You’ve read the book, Rey. Does it end happily?’

 

She shakes her head.

 

‘Alexandra and I met when we were young, Rey. Too young, I realise now. I was on one of those God awful Alpha camps my uncle ran. One evening he invited a neighbouring summer camp over for a friendly get together. Alphas and Betas, mixing together, playing nicely like the good little spoiled children we were.’

 

Ben sits suddenly on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. 

 

‘You’ll have figured out, of course, that my wife- that Alex- was a Beta. She came from wealth and privilege, just like the rest of us. I don’t think her parents ever denied her anything. Whatever she wanted, she just took. She didn’t care what she had to do to get what she wanted from life. I’d never known Betas could be like that, that they could be like her. And after years of hearing Luke’s bullshit about Alphas and our duty to do good in the world, how our biology made us better than everyone else... well, Alex was an eye-opener. She taught me that biology was just that: biology. Everything else... determination, ambition, lust, desire, need, want... all that came from up here,’ he indicated to his mind.

 

‘Until you took her to bed,’ Rey points out. ‘I’ve read  _ Heatseeker... _ In the book it came across as though things changed very quickly after that.’

 

Ben’s face is white and his hands shake. ‘She was my first love and my first kiss,’ he says sadly. ‘She pulled me aside one evening and kissed me by the campfire. And it was like... like fireworks, Rey. I’d been told all my life that the ideal pairing was Alpha/Omega. But when she kissed me... well, our designations didn’t matter a damn to either of us. We were in love, and we didn’t care who knew it.’

 

‘But everyone else cared,’ Rey fills in. ‘I’ve read the book. In the book they let the thoughts of others eat away at them.’

 

‘I made a mistake, Rey,’ Ben says. ‘I had these friends... this group of Alphas I hung around with. Hux, Mitaka and Phasma.’ Their names are spoken sharply, as though Ben is pulling them unwillingly from his lips. ‘They all thought- Hux especially- that being an Alpha gave us privileges. That being a Beta was somehow lower, degrading even. When they met Alex...’ Ben swallows. ‘They were cruel to her, I know this now. They taunted her. They belittled her. They made obvious comments about our sex-life, how she could never really satisfy me, how Alphas were made to knot. Fuck knows what Hux thought he knew about it... he was with Phasma, who was also an Alpha. I doubt he’d ever knotted an Omega in his life. Mitaka though... he went through Omegas like they were ice-cream. Every week he tried a different flavour.’

 

Rey nods, because this is not unfamiliar to her. All her life, she has been told similar stories. She has been told, again and again, that her only role in life, as an Omega, is to be knotted by a powerful Alpha. She always hated it.

 

‘You want to know something, Rey? It’s utter nonsense. All of it. Of course, knotting is pleasurable. Of course, knotting is a draw. But it isn’t everything. I would’ve been very happy to fuck Beta-style, without ever knotting an Omega, all my life. But Alex... Alex got it into her head that the only way I would be happy was if I could knot.’

 

‘You don’t have to tell me anymore,’ Rey says, almost begging. Not ten minutes ago she was the naked one before him. Now, their roles have reversed, and it is Ben who unclothes before her. But his is an emotional nakedness; devastating to witness. Rey isn’t sure how much of this she can take. ‘I’ve read the book... I know what you’re going to tell me...’

 

‘No,’ Ben’s voice is firm. ‘You need to hear this, Rey. From me, and me alone, and not through my books or other people or old news stories.’

 

Rey nods. Because he’s right. Of course he’s right.

 

‘She wanted me to knot her. We tried, again and again, without success. If anything, all it did was cause both of us pain. I kept trying to tell her that it didn’t matter. I kept reassuring her that I didn’t need anyone else. But it was like she was possessed. Our failure almost spurred her on. It was as though she couldn’t let it go. I should have known then that something wasn’t right with Alex. I should have known then to walk away.’

 

When he looks at her again it is with eyes that are wet with unshed tears. ‘But you don’t walk away from those you love, do you? Trust me, I watched Leia and Han go through this. They couldn’t stand each other, but they loved each other too. And that- that love- kept them in a vicious cycle of pulling away and pushing back, hating each other but being too proud to walk away. I was brought up with such a warped view of love and relationships. It’s no wonder I fell hard for the first girl who ever showed me a drop of affection.’

 

Rey swallows, uncomfortably aware of her own feelings at this point. Because Poe was the first man to show her any real kindness, and he was, by default, the first man she ever felt attracted to. She is, at that moment, all too aware that her own view of love and relationships may be as warped as Ben’s.

 

‘When it became apparent that knotting between us was never going to work, Alex got desperate.’

 

‘She started to bring you Omegas,’ Rey says softly.

 

‘Yes. She would go out, make friends with an Omega, and bring her back to me. And I, fool that I was, was so desperate to make Alex happy that I would fuck and knot them while she watched. She liked to watch, and-’

 

Rey stands, uncertain as to whether she can bear to listen to more. But Ben takes her hand, holding her in place next to him.

 

‘There’s nothing wrong with any of this, Rey, provided everyone involved was willing. Don’t think for a moment I forced myself or that situation on any of those girls. Don’t think for a moment Alex didn’t know what she was doing. I told you once before that sex between an Alpha and Omega can be beautiful, didn’t I? And for a time- for a long time, nearly five years in fact- I was very happy with Alex and our arrangement. Leia and Han hated her. Of course they did. They tried to separate us, once they realised what was going on... but that just made our relationship more intense. We were so... enraptured with one another.’

 

‘Until Hosnia.’

 

Ben inhales sharply. ‘Yes,’ he breathes out. ‘Until Hosnia.’

 

‘You said you weren’t in love with Hosnia,’ Rey reminds him. ‘You told me the only person you ever loved was-’

 

‘Alex,’ Ben says. ‘Yes, I loved Alex. But when Hosnia came along...’ he sighs, a melancholy sound. ‘Hosnia was different to the others. She was so carefree and gentle and clever and kind-hearted. She was the only one of those Omegas- of all of them, Rey- who could make me smile. All the others were so keen to play nice with Alex that after the fucking and knotting were done, they would slip away from my side to drink with her or do drugs with her. I was forgotten. In their mind, I was only good for one thing, and once I’d delivered it...’ he shrugs. ‘Sometimes I would join them, get high on Starkiller or whatever else it was they were doing that day. Sometimes I would leave them to it, go into the city or out for a run or even head to the nearest airfield and fly a plane. But Hosnia. She would never leave me. She was the traditional, perfect Omega I’d heard so much about but had never come across. She would sit with me, talk with me... we didn’t have much in common, but she was a nice girl. A really nice girl. I liked her.’

 

‘But Alexandra didn’t like that, did she?’

 

‘No,’ Ben’s eyes darkened. ‘No, she didn’t like that. She’d engineered the perfect situation by then. An Alpha who doted on her, and the Omegas who followed her every demand. Betas, it turns out, can be as malicious and controlling as anyone else. We do them and ourselves a disservice by pretending our biology gives us any advantage over them. And Alex...’ he pauses, his voice wavering. ‘Alex by then had become the perfect monster. She was manipulative and suggestive and I should’ve known better. I couldn’t leave- I was in too deep by then. I even fucking married her. But I could’ve told Hosnia... I could’ve made her walk away. No, not could. Should, Rey. I should have let Hosnia go.’

 

He looks at Rey with empty eyes. ‘I should have known that Alex would eat Hosnia alive. But I never dreamed she would feed her to the sharks too.’

 

‘I read the police reports,’ Rey admits. ‘You’re talking about Hux. You’re talking about Mitaka.’

 

Ben nods. ‘The night Hosnia died... it was supposed to be like any other. We all went clubbing, I don’t even remember the name of the place, fuck... it’s probably listed on the police report somewhere. We all took Starkiller. Then we went back to Hux’s house where Hosnia and I fucked while Alex watched. Hosnia was so sweet that night... while I knotted her she kept giggling, running her hand down my back. She was so soft and warm and she smelled so good-’

 

Ben abruptly stops, taking a deep, ragged breath. 

 

‘But when it was over, Alex whispered in Hosnia’s ear. They laughed together before leaving the room. When Alex came back, she gave me more Starkiller- more than I’d ever had before- and then climbed into bed with me. Fuck, why didn’t I see it? She never went to bed with me like that. Not after an Omega had been in it. But I... I thought I loved her and she was my wife and I was so clouded with drugs that...’

 

‘Ben, you don’t have to keep going, I know...’

 

‘No,’ he says firmly. ‘No, Rey, you don’t know. What happens in  _ Heatseeker,  _ Rey, do you remember?’

 

As if Rey could forget. ‘The Omega goes into heat,’ she says slowly, hating every word. ‘The Alpha fucks and knots her. The Beta kills the Omega in jealousy. The Alpha kills the Beta in a rage. Then, when the hormones fade, he kills himself.’ Rey pales. ‘It wasn’t a nice story, Ben.’

 

‘What happened in reality was worse,’ Ben replies, and now he bites his lip so hard he draws blood. ‘Do you know what really happened, Rey? In reality, I was so much worse than that Alpha. Because up till a certain point, it was all the same. Alex did persuade Hosnia to stop her suppressants, to go into heat. I fucked her, and then when I was passed out on drugs Alex took Hosnia and gave her to Mitaka and then Hux. They nearly ripped her apart, fighting over her. Alex gave Hosnia more and more Starkiller... more than she could handle. And then she gave her back to Hux.’

 

Ben pauses. ‘I’m fairly certain Alex intended for Hosnia to overdose. I’m certain she wanted her dead. So, yes, the Beta killed the Omega in jealousy.’

 

‘And then the Alpha killed the Beta in a rage,’ Rey whispers. ‘You killed your wife, Ben?’

 

‘No. Not then. That came later. What I did then was much, much worse.’

 

‘What could be worse than killing someone, even a monster?’ Rey asks.

 

‘Not killing them,’ Ben tells her, his face blank. ‘Forgiving them, and then letting the monster do it all over again.’

 

***

 

The hotel lobby is as soulless a place as the rooms above it. There is a distinct smell of cheap coffee in the air, and as Rey sits on a bench by a sad-looking plant, people go about their business without even looking at her. 

 

Kaydel calls her and they make a perfunctory plan for the car to collect her from the lobby in an hour. The press are already outside the church, Kaydel warns her. Be prepared for some potential nastiness. They’ll want their pictures. 

 

‘Should Poe come and get you?’ Kaydel muses out loud, but Rey shuts that thought down quickly.

 

‘No. I can handle myself.’

 

Rey isn’t lying. She can handle herself. She’s been doing so quite aptly for many years now, after all, and she wishes more people would realise that and give her credit for it.

 

Since the day her mother was murdered and her father imprisoned, Rey has been doing her best to survive on limited resources. At the children’s home, those resources were of the physical kind... clothing, shelter, and food. After Leia took her in and negated her poverty, the limitations Rey worked with were more emotional. A lack of love, of company, of friendship. For Rey, sheltered by an adoptive mother who was too busy and an adoptive father who held himself back, never made any real friends or developed any real kinds of relationships. 

 

Well, the days of the children’s home are behind her and Leia and Han are gone. Kaydel and Poe, Rey realises, intend to keep sheltering her. Poe has already made plans to fly with her to London, to help ‘settle her in’ as though she were the immigrant to her homeland and not him. But Rey realises now, in utterly depressed spirits, that if she lets him do that, if she lets Poe take her to the UK, that he will never let her go. She’ll end up under his wings as much as she was under Leia’s and Han’s and Plutt’s and all the other people and institutions who have tried, in their ways, to protect her. 

 

It is time, Rey realises, to fly on her own.

 

Poe won’t like it, of course he won’t. Surprisingly, he subscribes to the same viewpoint as Ben, that Omegas are easily manipulated. Poe, with possibly good reason, imagines the world to be full of men like Ben, who might want to hurt her. And she understands his worry, for she is young, she is pretty, she is an Omega, and she has the Organa fortune behind her.

 

But Ben, Rey also realises, would never hurt her. He’s said from the start that he won’t. And Ben, Rey also realises, is the only man she’s ever met who has encouraged her to fly solo. He is the first man who has ever told her she can be more than her biology. 

 

But though Rey might fight against the constraints put upon her, abandoning them is infinitely more terrifying. Because Rey, sheltered but friendless, protected but unloved, is desperately afraid to face the truth of her existence: that she is utterly alone. That since the day her mother died, she has always been alone.

 

She looks around the hotel lobby, where she has sat unnoticed for more than half-an-hour. People move around her, their lives busy and adsorbing, ignoring the girl who sits on a bench, waiting for her own life to begin.

 

She thinks of Ben, though she doesn’t want to. After his confession she’d stood weakly, gathering her things together and leaving the room. He hadn’t called out for her and she didn’t look back. She needed time to process his story. Needed time to work out how she felt about a man who would willingly stay with the wife who killed his lover. Why would any man do that? Rey asks herself desperately. How dark and depraved do you have to be? She thinks angrily. 

 

Or how easily manipulated, she reminds herself, her anger fading. Because if there is one thing Rey realises, it is that she and Ben are similar in many respects. He fell prey to the manipulations of others... and what has Rey done for the last fifteen years but follow the instructions of anyone who issued them?

 

Suddenly, Rey remembers the photos she’d seen of Ben on the internet. How there was something off about them, something she hadn’t been able to put her finger on at the time.

 

Now, she knows what that something is. She knows who that someone is.

 

She types his name into a search engine, waiting for the images to load.

 

And there it is. There she is. How could she not have seen this before?

 

Because in every photo of Ben with that month’s Omega, in every single image, she is there in the background. A tall blonde, pretty in an all-American kind of way, looking sharply at him in an ugly show of possessive ownership. Sometimes it is only her arm that is photographed, or a leg, or a shadow across the picture. Sometimes it is in Ben’s face, the way his eyes look to the side and not the Omega on his arm. In hundreds of images, over years of time, she is there. Watching him.

 

There is one image of her fully. She wears a gold dress next to Ben’s all black ensemble. She has a tight hold of his hand, even though his other arm is slunk around Hosnia’s shoulders. Her eyes are dark and terrible. Her lips are red and downturned. She is beautiful in a dangerous sort of way, her inner ugliness seeping through the black anger of her eyes.

 

Rey reads the caption under the photograph.

 

_ Pictured left to right: Hosnia Prime, actress with her boyfriend Ben Solo, son of Leia Organa. Also pictured, Alexandra Snoke. _

 

_ *** _

 

Rey uses her keycard to return to the hotel room, but as she presses down on the handle and opens the door, she steps back in shock. She has been gone just an hour, but in her absence, her room has been destroyed. 

 

Pictures are broken on the wall, and there are visible marks on the wallpaper where a large hand has tore at it. The bed linen has been shredded and the television upturned onto the floor. The furnishings have been all but destroyed and the windows are broken. Amongst the shattered glass lies a trail of blood to the bathroom, and Rey’s heart fails as she realises she can hear the shower running.

 

Frantically, she opens the bathroom door, praying to God that Ben has not been that stupid.

 

But he has not. 

 

He sits in the bottom of the shower, fully clothed, the water running over his face and into his bloodied hands. His eyes are blank and he does not look up as she walks into the room.

 

‘Ben?’ She ventures, but he makes no response. ‘Kylo?’ She tries again, but still nothing.

 

Wherever Ben Solo is at that moment, it is not with her.

 

She chews on her lip, wondering how to handle this moment. 

 

It is like a cloud settles over her. She remembers something from Plutt’s, from one of the dull lessons in ‘Alpha Management’ that she wishes she’d paid more attention to now. Something about Omegas calming Alphas. The biology of mixing pheremones, or scents, or something. It doesn’t even matter. Those lessons were useless, because Rey’s instincts take over, and she knows what to do.

 

She takes a deep breath, her hands going to the back of her dress, unzipping it quietly. Ben does not look up, still gazing into the water, where the blood from his hands runs like a gentle stream. With another deep breath Rey removes her underwear and steps out from her shoes. She pulls her hair up and away from her face. Away from the scent glands on her neck and back. 

 

She steps into the shower, positioning herself before Ben. She puts one leg over one of his splayed knees before repeating with the other, so that they are locked together. She puts her hands around his shoulders, forcing him to look up and into her eyes.

 

An Alpha, Rey knows, is meant to calm an Omega. And in calming her, he himself will feel calm. 

 

And so, as the cool water runs over them, Rey starts to talk.

 

She tells him everything. From the day her father broke her arm to the day Leia died. She tells him about her plants, about the planes she loves, about the time she found a prized DeHavilland engine part worth thousands for just a few hundred dollars at an Aviation sale out in Kansas. That was, she tells him, probably the best day of her life.

 

‘Scavenger,’ Ben mutters, and she knows then that he is listening.

 

That he is coming back to her.

 

She keeps talking, finally telling him about her all-consuming loneliness. Talking of her desperate want to spread her wings while at the same her terror at being more alone than she already is.

 

She pauses, still naked before him, to brush some water from her face. But he stops her, taking her face in his own hands and using his own, long fingers, to push the droplets from her skin.

 

‘You aren’t alone,’ he says quietly, bringing his forehead to meet with hers.

 

Rey feels a swell of something in her stomach. A sudden rise of something like happiness in her soul.

 

‘Neither are you,’ she tells him.

 

And as they sit under the water together, locked as one, the falling water a gentle hum around them, Rey suddenly knows.

 

It was never about Leia giving her to Ben. Leia wasn’t the kind of person to make any woman a gift for her son. She was better than that. Better than Alexandra Snoke.

 

No, Leia’s will was always about entrusting Ben to Rey. Leia couldn’t bring Ben out from the darkness. Her last will and testament, with her choice to leave Rey with Ben, was a silent plea from beyond the grave. She wants Rey to try and bring Ben back. Rey is the light that can bring Ben in from the dark. Rey is the sun to light his shadows. 

 

And suddenly, Rey realises that she won’t be getting on that plane to London in the morning.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You never really thought I would separate these two, did you? (Not at this point, anyway...)
> 
> Just to clarify, Alexandra Snoke in this story is Snoke in Canon. Not his daughter, not his niece... just him. 
> 
> Women can be manipulative. Women can be toxic. 
> 
> The next few chapters we get some more Reylo bonding scenes. Some more airplanes (because I love my airplanes) and someone might need to go into heat soon.
> 
> Also, more Heatseeker coming soon.


	12. Don’t Worry About It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I did it again.
> 
> Chopped a chapter up.
> 
> But when I was editing I reached a place which felt like a natural conclusion, so went with it. So it’s short and sweet today.
> 
> Writing Reylo fic is easy... but editing not so much, so I’m sorry to mess you around with the chapter count. However, I write in three acts so, following my original plan, this chapter is the start of ‘act two’ as it were.
> 
> I’m blown away by the response the last chapter had.
> 
> Thank you so, so much.

Two weeks before Rey’s mother was murdered by her father, they all went to the seaside. 

 

Rey’s memory of that day is small, tainted by the smell of liquor and the sound of her father’s hand slapping hard against her mother’s skin. Her mother had been dancing on the sand, her feet in the cool water of the Channel, a hazy smile of drunken happiness on her swaying form.

 

‘Don’t do that,’ her father spat. ‘Everyone’s looking at you. Stop that.’

 

Her father didn’t like people looking at her mother. Her father didn’t like people touching her mother. She was his, and his alone.

 

But her mother kept dancing, lifting her skirts from her long legs to let the water lap freely against her ankles. 

 

And so he slapped her. Hard, against her cheek, and then harder still, so that she was knocked into the water. 

 

Rey recalls crawling into her mother’s lap, the gulls circling overhead, the taste of salt and chips still on her tongue. The sea is cold against her skin, the sand coarse between her toes. Her mother touches the red welt on her cheek, wincing in pain.

 

‘You can cry Mummy. I promise I won’t tell Daddy,’ Rey whispers into her ear. But her mother shakes her head.

 

‘I’m think I’m all cried out now, baby girl,’ she whispers back. ‘I haven’t any tears left to cry.’

 

For a time they sit in the water together, enjoying the rush of the small waves against them. Rey delights in putting her hand into the damp sand, feeling the pull of the tide as the water returns from the shore to the sea.

 

‘What’s out there, Mummy?’ She asks, pointing into the distance.

 

‘Everywhere but here,’ her mother replies quietly.

 

Rey dips her finger into her mouth, tasting the salt of the water. She looks up in surprise. ‘It tastes like you,’ she says.

 

Her mother nods. ‘Oh. Yes, I suppose it would. Didn’t I ever tell you that the ocean is made of tears? That’s where they go, you know. They start here,’ Rey’s mother points at her heart, ‘before going here,’ she points to an eye. She traces a finger along the bruise that is quickly purpling on her cheek. ‘Then they run down here, before going to the ocean. That’s why it’s so big, all this.’ She gestured out to the blue-green sea. ‘So many sad people. So many sad things.’

 

‘But there are happy tears too, Mummy.’

 

Rey’s mother looks at her in surprise, as if she has never really seen her before. ‘I hope so, baby girl. I really do.’ She sighs against Rey’s shoulder. ‘I hope you have nothing but happy tears in your life, baby girl.’

 

Months later, after the trial, when her mother’s body is finally released for burial, the social workers decide that Rey should not go to the funeral. It is a socially funded burial, inappropriate for a child of her age. Besides, it is better if she doesn’t go, they say. Such a sad girl. Such a sad life. Such a sad start.

 

Rey, during it all, thinks of happy tears. 

 

Rey did not go to her mother’s funeral because she was too young to understand.

 

She does not go to Leia’s funeral because she is old enough to know better. 

 

Leia’s body is just a body. Her soul is already gone.

 

But Ben’s body is warm. Ben’s body pulses with life. Ben’s soul, fractured and broken, is still here to heal.

 

She must fall asleep in the shower against Ben’s chest, for when Rey next opens her eyes they are in the bed, pressed together. They are both wrapped in towels, her modesty once again preserved. But where they can touch they do, skin against skin, warmth seeping from one body into another. His arms are around her, holding her tight to him, while her legs intertwine with his. Her face is tucked below his chin, his breath warm and damp against her hair, her lips against his throat. 

 

Rey knows she should get her phone, and at least message Kaydel.

 

She knows she should uncurl from Ben’s arms, and put on her clothing. 

 

She knows she should end this, whatever this is.

 

Instead, she closes her eyes, and sleeps some more. 

 

When next she wakes it is less peaceful. Though his arm is still wrapped around her, Ben has shifted so that his body is no longer pressed against hers. She moans, missing his comfort, smell and skin, moving towards him, seeking out his heat. But he stops her, taking her face between his hands and bringing it up to look at him.

 

‘Don’t,’ he says simply. ‘Don’t tempt me.’

 

She opens her mouth to protest, before thinking the better of it and choosing to remain silent. She knows as well as he does that this was about more than that. About more than their biology.

 

‘Thank you,’ he says quietly, without releasing her face. ‘No one’s ever been able to... I never knew that anyone could... well...’ he stops to sigh. ‘Thank you,’ he finishes simply.

 

‘It was nothing,’ Rey whispers.

 

‘It was everything,’ Ben corrects. 

 

He presses his lips to her forehead, just a brushing of soft flesh against her skin, but still... it is enough to make her body clench with anticipation.

 

But then he releases her, and moves away.

 

He starts to pull on his clothing, grimacing when the damp fabric hits his skin. He runs a hand through his hair, pulling out his phone and absently flipping through it. 

 

Rey sits up, holding the towel tight to her body. For a minute, there is a palpably awkward silence. It bothers her more than she wants to admit, and when she can no longer bear it, she breaks the silence.

 

‘What shall we do about this?’ She indicates to the devastation Ben has wrought upon the room: the torn sheets, the shattered window, the broken furnishings.

 

But he doesn’t look up, only shrugging his shoulders.

 

‘Nothing,’ he says casually. ‘I’ll pay for the damages. I’ll offer a compensatory sum. Don’t worry about it.’

 

He keeps his eye on his phone, not looking at her.

 

‘I missed the funeral,’ Rey carries on.

 

‘Yes.’

 

‘Poe and Kaydel will be furious,’ she bites her lip. ‘Leia-’

 

‘Leia’s dead, Rey,’ Ben’s voice is curt, his tone cutting. ‘She wouldn’t give a fuck. Don’t worry about it.’

 

Twice in the last minute Ben has told Rey not to worry. But if anything, all his words do is feed the growing knot of anxiety in her stomach. 

 

‘Is this what happens?’ She suddenly whispers. ‘Is this how you treat your... all those women? When you’ve taken what you want from them?’

 

At that, he looks up. His eyes rake over her dishevelled form, from the towel which just covers her nakedness, to the hazel eyes which glisten with years of unspent, sad tears. He looks at her, and Rey instinctively knows that he isn’t seeing what she is at that moment, but what she is not. And she is most definitely not one of those women. Her lips aren’t swollen from his kisses; her flesh is not marked by his hand. Her shoulders remain free from his bite; her neck is clear and bruise-free. 

 

He does not see her as one of those women. He will never see her as one of those women. And Rey is left feeling bereft. She has been denied something she never even knew she wanted. She wants his marks on her body. She wants her marks on his.

 

‘If you were one of those women,’ he says slowly, each word clearly deliberately, almost painstakingly chosen. ‘ _ If  _ you were one of those women, I wouldn’t still be here. I would have fucked you, bruised you, buried myself within you and then left you with nothing.’

 

Rey thinks of the man who held her all day while they slept. She thinks of the man who wrapped her in towels, cradling her body as he laid her in bed beside him, arranging her body like a doll to fit the contours of his own.

 

‘You aren’t that callous,’ she says confidently.

 

His next breath finishes in an exhale which is short, bitter and incredulous.

 

‘I wish you would stop pretending people aren’t what they are, Rey. It’s the trait of a child.’

 

‘I’m not a child,’ Rey protests hotly.

 

His eyes drag over her again, and despite the towel, her skin heats. He’s seen the delicate curves of her body, the pinks and whites of her skin. He’s licked the scent glands of her neck, mixed his pheromones with her own. 

 

‘I know you aren’t a child,’ he breathes. ‘But you act like one. And like a child you’ve concocted this daydream about the world around you. Given the nightmare you started with, that doesn’t surprise me. But even when presented with irrefutable truths, you persist in clinging to the fairytale,’ he holds up his hands. ‘Don’t make me into a knight in shining armour, Rey. I’ll only ever let you down if you do. I’m too far gone for fairytales. I’m not the prince, I’m the dragon. And I will eat you whole if you keep coming too close to the flames.’

 

‘You’re hiding behind a mask,’ Rey counters. ‘And don’t ever think I don’t know what that mask is. I know what you are,’ she lowers her voice, giving him a look of open challenge. ‘But I also know what you could be.’

 

‘Then you’re a fool, and I thought more of you than that.’

 

‘I’m not a fool. I’m definitely not a child, and certainly not a fool.’

 

They fall silent, the only sound in the room the hot, jagged breaths they both take. Ben stares at Rey for a moment, looking at her keenly. He licks his lips once and then twice. His eyes drift over her, as though he is tracing her outline against the white of the bed. He inhales deeply, drinking in her smell. He is staring at her with such clear longing that Rey wants nothing more than to envelop him in her arms. She stares at his lips, wanting them on her body. Her continued silence is an open invitation for him to come to her, to take what he wants from her and damn the consequences. Last night may have been about more than their desires, but this morning is about more than their emotions. 

 

But he does not move toward her. 

 

‘You should dress,’ he says softly. ‘You have an early flight tomorrow.’

 

‘I’m not getting that flight. I’m not going back to London.’

 

‘Indeed?’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘And just what will you do instead?’

 

‘You’re my guardian. I’m going home with you.’

 

There, at last, is a flicker of surprise and interest in him. His cool exterior falters, and for a moment he almost gapes at her. But it is just a moment, before the hard lines of his well-worn mask of indifference return. Everything with this man, it seems, is made up of moments, and in those moments the real Ben Solo breaks through.

 

Rey, with her engineer’s heart, decides then and there she will learn how to make those moments into minutes. And then those minutes into hours. And then those hours into a lifetime.

 

Ben shoves his battered hands into his pockets. He looks at her with cool disbelief.

 

‘And yet you say you aren’t a fool,’ he mutters, before shaking his head and leaving the room.

 

***

 

When Rey emerges from her hotel room, she goes straight to the desk to check out. 

 

‘The room-’ she begins to say to a pretty, pink-cheeked receptionist.

 

But the woman waves her hand. ‘Your brother has taken care of everything,’ she says lightly.

 

‘No, you don’t understand. The room has been-’

 

The receptionist gives another wave of her hand. Her nails are long, perfectly manicured and painted a deep coral. Her smile is deep and she looks dizzy, flustered... but also happy. 

 

‘Miss Solo, your brother explained everything and has taken care of it all. You don’t need to worry.’

 

Rey looks down, fighting the urge to be sick. 

 

‘Did he take your number?’ She asks bluntly.

 

‘I’m sorry, Miss Solo?’ The receptionist’s voice is light but her face guilty. She has clearly mixed work with pleasure, and it almost kills Rey to see the hope in her eyes. 

 

Two things become clear to Rey in this moment. One is that Ben will fuck this woman. The other is that he will think of Rey while doing so. Rey remembers the look in his eyes earlier that evening, how hot they were with unfulfilled desire. How filled with longing. She knows, because it was mirrored in her own. She knows, young and inexperienced though she is.

 

He will fuck this woman. And there is nothing at all she can do about it.

 

Rey shakes her head. ‘Nothing,’ she exhales. ‘No. Never mind. It doesn’t matter.’

 

She turns to leave the receptionist to her pleasant fantasy, before the girl calls out after her.

 

‘Oh, I meant to say... I forgot, what with your brother and all... I mean, I have a message to pass on to you, Miss Solo.’

 

Rey stops.

 

‘What message?’

 

‘Oh,’ the receptionist says brightly. ‘While you and your brother were upstairs this afternoon, someone stopped by to ask for you.’

 

Kaydel no doubt. She was probably worried sick, and Rey feels bad for that. Kaydel, more than anyone, knew and loved Leia. Rey should have made the day of her funeral easier for her. But instead of mourning, Kaydel spent her morning worrying about Rey’s disappearance from the Big House, and then her afternoon probably worrying about her absence from the funeral. Rey sighs, knowing that she needs to bite the bullet and turn on her phone. She has many apologies to make, starting with Kaydel.

 

‘A young woman?’ Rey asks, ‘smartly-dressed? Professional?’

 

‘No, not a woman. And certainly not professional.’

 

Poe then. Rey bites her lower lip, worrying her tongue against the tender flesh. How would Poe feel to know Rey has spent the day naked in Ben’s arms, innocent though it was? Poe, who was so rudely awoken by Ben breaking down his door to find her? Poe, who will see her through her first heat? Poe, who has always been so good to her? Rey falters.

 

‘Oh,’ Rey says weakly. ‘Thank you for letting me know. I’ll be sure to call Mr. Dameron and-’

 

The receptionist gives her a quizzical smile. ‘Oh, but it wasn’t a Mr. Dameron who called for you.’

 

‘But there’s no one else.’ Even as she says the words, Rey feels sad. She is eighteen-years-old and the only people she can even possibly call friends in her life are employees, and not even her employees, but the staff of her recently deceased adoptive mother. It is a sobering summary of her life.

 

‘Well, this was an older gentleman. Quite the eccentric,’ the receptionist muses. ‘He left a note for you.’

 

She passes a folded piece of paper to Rey, who looks at it as though it is a bomb that may, at any point, go off in her hands. For Rey recognises the handwriting on this letter, scrawled and messy though it is. She recognises the smell that lingers on the paper, that strange, unlikely mix of sun and damp sand. 

 

_ Rey, _

 

_ I have three things to say to you.  _

 

_ Meet me tomorrow at the hangar. Sunrise. _

 

Rey must frown at the note, because the receptionist leans forward helpfully, giving Rey a friendly nod.

 

‘He said his name was Skywalker.’

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this chapter was called ‘Three Things’ but I felt during editing that it gave away Luke’s appearance.
> 
> There was no way I was going to write a Reylo fic without Luke in it, though.
> 
> Honestly, if I could just write Maz and Luke getting together for drinks in Takodana, while Finn and Poe slow danced in the background, I wouldn’t be unhappy. Oh, and throw in Yoda trolling Luke. I love Yoda.
> 
> Reylo is angst and hope and love and longing... but Luke and Maz have history and gravitas combined with a fuck-it-all attitude that is such, such fun to write. Also, that smell of ‘sun and damp sand’ is a throwback to tattooine. I’m hoping for Tatooine to make an appearance in IX.
> 
> See you Wednesday, the chapter of which is called ‘First Kiss’.x


	13. First Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a day late. 
> 
> England played in the World Cup semi-finals last night and I meant to post afterwards, but I got a bit fuzzy-headed and thought I should wait till the morning.
> 
> Still getting my canonical moments in, especially in this chapter.

For all that he is her uncle, Rey knows very little about Luke Skywalker. He is a highly secretive man, a remarkable trait for a person who talks just as much as Luke apparently can.

 

And talk he does, about everything from Alpha legislation to advancements in prosthetic limb development, to the correct milking procedures for the Guernsey cows he rears up in Vermont. With one lazy hand stroking his coarse beard, Luke talks and talks and talks, and Rey quickly learns to dread the Solo-Skywalker family occasions where he appears, forcing everyone to listen to his vague opinions and hazy philosophy on life. 

 

Thanks to Luke, Rey has far more knowledge of indigenous spear-fishing than she will ever need. Thanks to Luke, she can name all the internal parts of industrial scale air humidifiers, as well as their counterparts in a dehumidifier. And thanks to Luke, she knows the racing stats of all twenty-six entrants to the 1959 Pod Race, sponsored that year by Tatooine ale and lager (Tatooine, served sweet, dry or draught). Because Luke Skywalker will literally talk about anything.

 

About anything, it seems, but Luke Skywalker.

 

For where Luke the man is concerned, Rey has nothing but unanswered questions and curiosities. He is an enigma wrapped in a riddle wrapped in home-spun woollens, and beyond what information is available in books and on the internet, Rey knows nothing about him. And even that information, his impeccable war-record and service to his country notwithstanding, there seems to be more half-guesses than solid facts available.

 

One interviewer, cutting through Luke’s spiel on designation transcendence, asked if it were really true that he nursed Vader through his battle with the lung cancer that would eventually kill him. 

 

‘Why would anyone help a man who has hurt so many?’ The interviewer asks aggressively.

 

Luke rolls his eyes, sipping at his water. ‘Offering dignity and compassion in death,’ he says, without either confirming or denying her question, ‘is the right thing to do.’

 

Other journalists speculate on Luke’s relationship status, particularly his relationship with Leia Organa. That they are twins is uncommon knowledge, never confirmed by them, and only hinted at vaguely in the papers that were leaked after Vader’s death. Some people don’t believe they are related at all, and there is so much secrecy around the circumstances of their birth that Rey can understand that view. They cite the marked differences in their looks, their wildly differing lifestyles and, more awkwardly, that old black and white photograph of the two, aged around nineteen, kissing outside of the hospital where Luke recovered from his first war injury. Siblings, they say, do not kiss like  _ that. _

 

And Rey would normally agree with them, were it not for her relationship with Ben. Ben, who clearly desires her. Ben, who licks and marks her. Ben, who is legally- though not, thank God, biologically- her brother. The more Rey considers it, the more she begins to think there might have been less innocence to Leia and Luke than either of them would ever admit. If Rey and Ben have fallen into the trap of separated siblings wanting to fuck, than God knows what it must have been like for Luke and Leia. Inappropriate relationships between Skywalkers, it seems, might just run in the family. 

 

Leia adored Luke. And Luke, like everyone else who ever met her, worshipped Leia. Leia might have married Han, but Luke was the only one who could ever persuade or dissuade her into anything. They were each other’s first love, soul-mates, and Rey knows that when they were in a room together, it was like no one else mattered. Not Rey, or Han, or- and here Rey swallows- even Ben. And she remembers, young though she was, how that rankled her. It must have been a thousand times worse for Ben, she reflects. Ben who was Leia’s by birth. Ben, who even if Leia couldn’t understand him, had his mother’s love. Her love, but not her time. For Leia never had enough time for Ben. 

 

But she always made time for her brother.

 

Han, while he was living, always looked on Luke with good-natured patience, drinking his whisky silently while Luke and Leia insulated themselves away from the rest of the world. Han loved Luke, in his way, but as a beta he never quite understood the Skywalkers or their bond. But then, Rey knows he never troubled himself to learn either, choosing to head down to his planes when their talk began to grate on his nerves. 

 

Rey knew that Han had his own affairs, just as Leia had hers. But there was no resentment or bitterness, just casual acceptance. They worked well together. They suited each other. And even if the early happiness they’d found with one another could not be maintained, there was still enough affection to keep the marriage ticking over. 

 

If there was ever a time when they were going to disintegrate, it was in the aftermath of Hosnia Prime’s death and Ben’s subsequent disappearance with Alexandra Snoke. The implosion of their marriage was perilously close, with Han blaming Leia, and Leia blaming Han. But more than that, even to look at one another at that point brought home their obvious failure as parents. In looking on one another they saw only their son, who they had let down in the worst way. And perhaps, Rey thinks, the failure itself stung more than the loss. For as Rey herself knows all too well, children are sometimes expendable.

 

It was no wonder that Luke tried to stop Leia from bringing Rey into this toxic situation.

 

It is still a wonder to Rey that, for once, Luke couldn’t convince Leia otherwise.

 

After receiving her uncle’s note, Rey decides to return to the Big House. She tells herself that it is because she is to meet Luke there at the hangar in the morning, but in reality, she has nowhere else to go. 

 

However, she has no desire to return to the Big House itself. She is done with that place and the memories within. So instead, almost by default, she finds herself going down to the hangar. She finds herself putting down her case and putting on her overalls. She finds herself, by one am, knee-deep in rewiring the hydraulics on the old Cessna 68’. 

 

It is, quite frankly, a thankless task. Despite having slept all day she feels tired to the bone, and the tools she has to hand are either inefficient for their task, rusted, blunt or a combination of all three. By four am, she can bear it no longer, throwing down her work gloves with a hiss of frustration. She powers up the old coffee machine, waiting patiently for a trickle of black liquid, and when she takes her first sip and finds it cold, she swears almost violently. She chews on her lip while making a quick repair to the machine’s thermostat, and while she runs a quick test of water through the release valve, she sees it in the darkness through the corner of her eye.

 

Outlined in the night, it feels ghostly. It has been abandoned these last few years, but tall and well-designed, the brickwork remains sturdy and it is in relatively good condition.

 

Han’s control tower, for the runway he used to fly his planes. Rey still remembers sitting with Chewie at the top, tracking Han as he returned from one of his many trips away. She still remembers standing on her tiptoes, peering through the windows, waiting for his aircraft to break through the clouds as he made his approach. If she tries, she can still feel the same break of excitement in her stomach, the same admiration she felt as she watched him gracefully bring the plane down, landing without so much as a bump.

 

It is, for Rey, like a beacon. She abandons her coffee without a second glance, leaving the warmth of the hangar to head out into the night. When she reaches the tower she breathes deeply, her pleasure at being so close to somewhere she always thought of with great affection coursing through her. It is a homecoming for Rey of sorts, and as she lays her hand against the door, feeling the cool weight of it beneath her fingers, she makes a silent apology for having stayed away so long.

 

She taps in the code to unlock the door, knowing that Leia will not have changed it. As the door swings open, a smell of dust and stale air and something sour hits her and she gags slightly. Like Maz said, Han and Chewie weren’t the tidiest of people. Clearly Chewie left something half-eaten to rot on his last visit to the tower, though Rey tries not to think of that. For Chewie’s last visit to the tower was to track Han as he left on the flight from which he never returned. When it became clear to all that Han’s plane was lost, Chewie refused to believe it, spending three days in the tower watching and waiting for his plane to break through the clouds. 

 

It was a break that would never come.

 

It was Leia, in the end, who persuaded him to leave. Rey still remembers seeing the grizzled old man on Leia’s arm, his face tear-stained and eyes red. The noises of grief he made were inhuman, and Rey clung to the shadows as Leia- and Luke, who came as soon as he heard the news- consoled him, hiding their own grief in the face of Chewie’s loss.

 

For if Luke was Leia’s soul-mate, than Han was Chewie’s.

 

Rey does not go upstairs to the control room. She is not the guest this tower is waiting for, and besides, she cannot bear to go up there and not hear Chewie’s growl of welcome, or see Han, his feet up on the console, watching the skies.

 

Instead, she taps in another code on another panel, watching with satisfaction as one-by-one, the lights on the runway spark to life.

 

She then leaves the tower, locking the door behind her.

 

Han’s runway is a beautiful 5932 feet in length. Nowhere near the size of any of the larger commercial airports, and unable to handle anything larger than a mid-sized plane with a full load, but still a very generous size for a private runway. Rey strolls to the middle of the strip, the lights twinkling at the side of her vision, before lying down on the tarmac to look at the sky and stars above. She feels, in that moment, unbearably sad.

 

Perhaps, like Chewie, she is still waiting for Han’s plane to appear in the sky.

 

She feels heartbroken when she admits that she knows it never will.

 

It is summer and the air is warm, so Rey strips off the light jacket she had on over her dungarees and uses it as a kind of pillow. She knows she should be thinking about Luke, about Ben, about her future... but she cannot begin to process her thoughts about any of it. It just all feels like so much. Too much.

 

So, she empties her head of everything, picking out constellations in the sky, watching the occasional satellite track a path through the stars. Tonight the moon is but a sliver, a mocking white smile in the abyss of the universe, almost cruel in the darkness. She sees the odd large jet in the distance, and she thinks for a moment about how those few flashing lights represent the lives of around four-hundred people. Four hundred people, sitting 36,000 feet in the sky, moving on with their lives. Four hundred people, who will never know that a young girl miles beneath their feet watches them as they pass briefly through her life.

 

‘It’s a good night for flying,’ a low voice suddenly remarks to her side, but Rey does not look away from the sky to find its source. She knows it is Ben. She knows the low, seductive timber of his voice by now, as well as the slight, Alpha smell to him. So she only nods, saying nothing as he puts his own jacket on the tarmac, lying his long frame alongside hers and looking up to the stars.

 

‘I’m sorry for this afternoon,’ he says quietly.

 

‘You have nothing to be sorry for,’ Rey tells him.

 

‘I do. I was... short with you. Abrupt. And I know you didn’t deserve it. So I’m sorry.’

 

She nods again. 

 

‘There are times when I just don’t know how to act,’ Ben carries on. ‘I’ve been that way all my life. Leia always said I felt things too deeply. Anger, jealousy, spite, desire...’ he turns his head towards Rey, ‘...love.’

 

She swallows, thinking of Alexandra Snoke, remembering  _ Heatseeker.  _

 

‘I feel them all, like a fire burning within me, and sometimes I don’t know how to vocalise that,’ Ben turns back to the stars. ‘I try to internalise it, but sometimes it slips out. Either in cutting remarks, or in a fit of temper. In violence occasionally. Sometimes in passion.’ He stops to sigh. ‘This afternoon, when I woke to find you still in my arms, I fell prey to some strong emotions. Believe it or not, I was cutting with you to stop myself from expressing my emotions in less... less acceptable ways.’

 

Rey looks at him. Next to her, his hair falls gently about his shoulders, and the profile of his face in the shadows is terrifying in its beauty. Everything about this man is both terrifying and beautiful all at once.

 

‘That hotel receptionist...’ she begins.

 

‘Yes?’

 

‘Did you...?’ 

 

He nods, and there is something like defeat in the movement. ‘Yes,’ he exhales. ‘Yes.’

 

Rey bites on her tongue, trying to use pain to dull the sudden image in her mind of a handful of coral-painted nails scraping down Ben’s back. The same back she caressed that afternoon.

 

‘Oh.’

 

‘Her name was Cammie,’ Ben says. ‘She wanted to be a dancer but twisted her knee one year and had to give up the stage.’

 

Rey feels a twist of sadness for the girl, remembering her flushed and hopeful smile. ‘And now you’re just another disappointment in her life.’

 

‘Don’t worry,’ Ben says bitterly. ‘She can’t hate me more than I hate myself.’

 

‘You shouldn’t hate yourself, Ben.’

 

‘And you shouldn’t come with me when I leave tomorrow, Rey,’ he turns his head, his eyes locking with hers. ‘You’ll only end up hating me too.’

 

‘I could never hate you.’

 

‘You don’t know me then.’

 

‘You don’t know yourself.’

 

They sit in silence for a few more moments, watching as the sky goes from purple-black to a dark blue. Rey takes Ben’s hand in hers, interlacing their fingers, exchanging warmth and comfort. Wisps of clouds start to form above them, lit by the rising sun.

 

Rey regretfully sits up. ‘Luke is meeting me at the hangar at sunrise,’ she tells Ben.

 

His body visibly stiffens next to hers, his hand becoming like iron in her own.

 

‘Ah,’ he says. ‘Looks like you’re going to be the lucky recipient of one of Skywalker’s bullshit moralistic rants.’

 

‘He knows I spent yesterday with you.’

 

‘Of course he does,’ Ben gives an ugly laugh. ‘Luke Skywalker knows everything. And he’ll be ready to fill your head with his own personal brand of vitriol. He’ll tell you all about me. All about me, and why you need to keep well away.’

 

‘Should I?’ Rey asks.

 

Ben sits up, and suddenly, looming over her like he is, Rey knows she should shrink away. Instead she moves closer.

 

‘Should I?’ She asks again.

 

He runs a hand- the hand that does not still clasp her own- down her cheek, cupping her face, bringing it towards his own.

 

‘Yes,’ he whispers, so close that she can feel the incredible warmth of his breath, feel the blood pulsing just below his skin. ‘Yes,’ he says again, pulling her even closer. ‘Yes, you should stay away from me.’

 

Rey has never been kissed. She was too sheltered to take part in teenage years of exploration, too protected to ever be exposed to boys- or men- who might want to do that with her. Her lips are untouched, and Ben seems to know this, for he runs the pad of his thumb along her lower lip almost reverently.

 

‘You’re like the sun, you know,’ he breathes. ‘I’m being pulled in by your gravity, made dizzy by your light. And then,’ and here he runs his lips over her cheek, so that Rey feels her heart nearly stop in her chest. ‘And then when I’m so close to you, so close that I can feel your heat and energy, I’m burned by everything that you are. Everything that you represent. And so I push myself away.’

 

He runs his lips over her other cheek, releasing her hand and bringing it up to her face. With both hands he makes gentle circles against the scent glands behind her ears, and Rey... and Rey moans against him. The feeling is blinding.

 

‘I can’t get too close to you, my Rey of light, my Rey of the sun,’ Ben mutters hotly. ‘And you’re going to hate me for it. I promise you now, you will hate me for this. I’ll pull you close and push you away, and I’ll keep doing it until one day you leave me for good. I can’t keep my hands off you... but I can’t let myself have you either.’

 

‘People keep telling me how bad you are,’ Rey replies, her eyes closed, as Ben’s fingertips incite absolute, unadulterated pleasure through her body. ‘How bad for others. How bad for me. But I feel such goodness inside you, Ben. Let me help you bring it out. Let me do that for you.’

 

But Ben shakes his head. ‘I don’t want to be saved by you, Rey. And if you come with me,’ one of his hands drifts slowly over her shoulder blades, ever-so-slightly lingering on the mating gland of her back. ‘If you come with me for that, you’ll only be disappointed.’

 

‘Why should I come with you then?’

 

‘I keep telling you. You shouldn’t come with me.’

 

His lips now linger near hers, and she knows, just knows, that now is the moment he will kiss her. He will kiss her and put an end to this ridiculous dance they perform near one another. He will kiss her and then not be able to stop himself from claiming her. He will kiss her and then together they can put the malicious ghost of Alexandra Snoke to rest. Together they can cut the strings she still wields on Ben from beyond the grave.

 

But against the rising sun, a shadow falls over them, and the moment is gone.

 

‘Stop!’ An agonised voice cries, and they turn, hands still upon one another, to find Luke Skywalker standing there, his robes fluttering in the breeze. He looks on them with utter distress and real fury. His eyes burn hot and his fists are clenched. 

 

Rey pulls away from Ben with a start, leaping to her feet. But Ben takes a moment, one hand still lingering in the air where Rey sat.

 

‘You...’ Luke spits at Rey with half-disbelief, half-anger, ‘...you went straight to him.’

 

Rey feels herself fill with outrage. ‘He was trying to show me something. Teach me something,’ she replies, for who is Luke Skywalker to make comment on her? Who is Luke Skywalker to make assumptions about what this connection- this strange, beautiful connection- between her and Ben is?

 

Luke looks at Ben with distrustful, jaded eyes. ‘I’m sure,’ he says, his voice dripping with disdain. ‘He offered you something you thought you needed and you,’ his voice cracks, ‘you didn’t even try to stop yourself.’

 

‘I’m tired of stopping myself,’ she returns. ‘I’m tired of holding back what I want and who I am.’

 

‘Who you are?’ Luke exhales. ‘Who you are? You don’t even know who you are. You know nothing.’

 

‘I know enough. I know myself. I know Ben.’

 

‘Amazing,’ Luke rolls his eyes, turning on his heel and walking away. ‘Everything you just said was wrong.’

 

Rey follows him, still raging with unspent anger. Ben does not move.

 

‘How can you dare to make opinions on that you don’t understand? You don’t know me, you don’t know Ben-’

 

‘I know Ben,’ Luke says calmly, matter-of-fact. ‘I’ve known him his whole life, until he ran off with that dark piece of work Alexandra Snoke. Though even after they ran, they still managed to fuck things up.’

 

‘I know about Hosnia-’

 

‘I mean  _ after  _ Hosnia.’

 

Rey stills. ‘He told me he forgave Alexandra for Hosnia. He told me they left and that she continued to... to provide him with omegas,’ she stutters.

 

‘Oh, he told you that?’ Luke’s voice is tight. ‘Well, credit to him for that honesty. But I’d bet my life he didn’t tell you the rest. I bet he didn’t tell you about Han. About what he did to him.’

 

Suddenly, the words of the paparazzi from the airport ring in Rey’s mind. A cloying voice, asking if Ben were involved in Han’s death.

 

‘What do you mean?’ She asks coldly.

 

‘I mean Ben didn’t tell you where Han went on that final flight of his. Where he was going. What he did.’

 

‘No.’

 

‘He probably didn’t tell you that Han flew out to Ben and Alexandra’s place to try and persuade Ben to leave his toxic, horrifying wife.’

 

Rey falters. ‘No.’

 

‘And he probably didn’t tell you that when Han crashed on his return flight, that it looked as though his plane had been tampered with.’

 

‘Tampered with?’ Rey repeats. ‘What are you saying?’

 

Luke shakes his head at her. ‘You know what I’m saying, Rey. There is every chance that Ben was involved in Han’s death. He and Alexandra didn’t just lead that poor actress to her death. He didn’t just fuck up the lives of countless omegas. No, he also killed his father.’

 

‘I don’t believe he could do that...’ Rey starts, before trailing off. For Ben has already admitted to her that he killed his wife. What more does it take to also kill a father?

 

‘He killed his father, who was your father too, Rey,’ he looks at her pointedly. ‘Although the two of you seem to have forgotten that inconvenient fact.’

 

And with one more withering glance at her, Luke Skywalker turns away.

 

And when Rey turns around, she sees that Ben has gone too.

 

In the morning sunshine, Rey once more stands alone.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to awknowledge Ben’s part in Han’s death as per canon. 
> 
> But his actions will be explained later, when Han’s death becomes a kind of catalyst for the disintegration of his marriage to Alexandra.
> 
> See you soon.x


	14. Cronus, Unmasked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my kids are on summer vac now which means editing will take a little longer. I’m hoping to update this once a week now rather than twice a week.
> 
> In this chapter there are mentions of cancer, assisted suicide and some seriously dark subject matter involving an underage girl.
> 
> Please do not read if any of this may be triggering.

When Rey returns to the hangar, there is a hastily written note tacked onto her toolbox.

 

_ Cronus, Unmasked  _ is all it reads.

 

Rey feels the vague stirring of a memory, but unable to place her finger immediately upon what this cryptic comment might mean, reaches for her phone and googles the phrase.

 

The results surprise her.

 

_ ‘Cronus, Unmasked’ is the sixth novel by acclaimed thriller writer Kylo Ren. Cronus, Unmasked details the life of protagonist Christopher Smith (the titular ‘Cronus’), a journalist who commits patricide at the behest of his wife Georgia (representative of ‘Gaia’). Darker in tone than Ren’s four previous novels, Cronus, Unmasked is considered the finest of the author’s published works, with a twist at the conclusion The Times newspaper described as ‘the ultimate knife-in-the-heart’  moment of Ren’s literary career. _

 

Rey’s mouth goes dry and her heart pounds heavily. She recognises the beautiful cursive of Ben’s handwriting, rapidly scrawled though it is, and understands that Ben is trying to tell her something. He must have heard Luke’s rant, the accusations their uncle levelled at him, and rather than face Rey and her immediate rage, has decided to leave her this. He wants her, Rey realises, to read his book. And as  _ Heatseeker  _ revealed to her the circumstances of Hosnia’s death, she knows now that _Cronus_ _ , Unmasked  _ will reveal to her what happened to Han.

 

Ben is giving her a choice, she realises. She can walk away now without ever hearing his version of events, or she can read this novel, hurtful though it may be to her.

 

Ben is giving her a choice, but it is one she doesn’t need. She knows herself well enough to understand that she is always going to chose knowledge over ignorance. She is always going to chose explanation over accusation. 

 

She is always, she realises suddenly, going to chose Ben.

 

She immediately purchases and downloads the novel, sitting cross-legged on the hard hangar floor while she waits for it to load to her kindle app. She goes back to the repaired coffee machine, noting with satisfaction that it is back to full operation, and makes herself a hot Americano. With her drink in hand, she opens the book and begins to read.

 

***

 

_ They’ve been married six years when his father arrives at their door. It has been seven years since they last spoke, and Christopher is shocked by his appearance. Not because he looks older- because he does-, not because he looks slightly pained- because he always has-, but just because he is there. With him. With her. With them. _

 

_ Georgia says nothing when Christopher ushers his father through to their kitchen, silently making him a coffee laced with whisky. She is stone-faced, tapping her red nails against the marble counter, a pulsing staccato in this air of discomfort.  She has not forgiven his father for his comments about her those seven years ago, those wildly flung words and accusations, though Christopher cannot help but wonder if they can still be called accusations if they are true. Where is the line, he thinks, between accusation and actuality? Is there even one? He hopes so. He needs that moral grey area. He couldn’t live in a world with only black and white, right or wrong, dark or light. He knows himself. Knows he would be strangled by darkness without the grey to cling to. _

 

_ He looks at Georgia, who still taps her red nails, her lips downturned in displeasure. He swallows, knowing that in a world of wrong and right, in a world of black and white, she would thrive in the darkness. She has no need of light and sunshine. She has no need of moral grey or halfway dusks and dawns. _

 

_ She is a deadly nightshade, her leaves curling in the night, her poison growing ever stronger.  _

 

_ His father drinks his whisky-laced coffee while Christopher drinks his wine while Georgia taps on the counter. They sit like this for a full ten minutes before a giggling girl trips down the stairs, dressed only in his bed sheet, throwing herself into his arms and kissing him on the lips, wrapping her legs around his waist.  _

 

_ ‘Pet,’ Georgia purrs, ‘Not now. We have company.’ _

 

_ The girl disentangles herself to look to Georgia, before glancing at his father, her lips forming a tiny circle of surprise.  _

 

_ Now his father is stone-faced, while Georgia smiles. And he... all he feels is shame. Shame and disgust. _

 

_ ‘Get her out of here,’ he tells Georgia roughly, who raises her eyebrows at his tone. _

 

_ ‘But you didn’t say please,’ she replies. _

 

_ ‘Please,’ he says blankly. ‘Get her out of here.’ _

 

_ Georgia would normally punish him for this behaviour. Punish him, and then punish the girl to wound him further. But she knows that with his father in the room, witness already to his emasculation by his wife, he has been punished enough. _

 

_ So she slides from her chair, reaching for the girl and stroking the glands on her neck. The glands she knows are there, but cannot sense. ‘Come, pet,’ she says, pulling at the girl. ‘Let’s go fuck while Christopher finishes up here.’ _

 

_ Georgia strokes Christopher’s arm as they pass him. ‘I’m going to get her ready for you,’ she says lightly, her voice dripping with malice, as though his father were not there, and listening to every word. ‘Make her nice and wet and hot and open for you.’ _

 

_ When she is gone, Christopher hears his father exhale. _

 

_ ‘Jesus Christ,’ his father shakes his head, and Christopher feels that old, red-hot swell of anger. For he can never do enough to please this man. _

 

_ ‘What?’ He snaps, his fists clenching. _

 

_ But his father only shakes his head again, draining his coffee and indicating to the whisky. Christopher turns back to the coffee machine, but his father waves his hand. _

 

_ ‘Just the whisky. Fuck the coffee. It’s not like your mother is here.’ _

 

_ His mother. Another elephant in the room. _

 

_ ‘How is she?’ Christopher asks, facing the inevitable, trying to keep his anger at bay. _

 

_ ‘Happy, I think,’ his father says. ‘She has her work and the girl to take care of. You’ll remember that after you left we adopted a daughter.’ _

 

_ ‘What is she like?’ Christopher swallows down the sickly taste of jealousy. _

 

_ His father shrugs. ‘I’d rather not talk about her with you,’ he says, and Christopher understands immediately. His father likes this daughter. His father doesn’t want her tainted by him. All he does is taint the things he touches, even if it is only through words. _

 

_ ‘What do you want to talk about then?’ _

 

_ His father sighs, reaching into his bag and pulling out a Manila envelope. He pushes it across the table wordlessly to Christopher, nodding when he hesitates over the opening. _

 

_ ‘Go on, read them,’ his father tells him. _

 

_ It is a blur of doctors letters and reports. A blur of diagnoses, recommendations and unfamiliar medical jargon. Christopher looks at his father, seeing again the dark lines under his eyes, the sunken cheeks and patchy hair.  _

 

_ In six years, his father hasn’t just grown old.  _

 

_ His haggardness isn’t just the result of aging. That general air of defeat and fatigue that surrounds him is not just because of disappointment in life. _

 

_ No. His father is dying. _

 

_ ‘Cancer?’ Christopher asks, though it is not really a question. _

 

_ His father drinks his whisky. ‘Yep.’ _

 

_ ‘Where?’ _

 

_ ‘Started in my colon. Spread to my stomach, liver and kidneys fairly quickly. Just got to my bones.’ _

 

_ Christopher blanches. ‘What about chemotherapy-’ _

 

_ But his father cuts him off. ‘Had it already. Two rounds, plus radiotherapy and surgery. Didn’t work.’ _

 

_ ‘Why didn’t Mom call me?’ _

 

_ His father gives him a look. A look that tells Christopher that he knows exactly why his mother didn’t call him. But there is also something else in his eye.  _

 

_ ‘I’d rather not bother your mother with all of this.’ _

 

_ At that, the anger Christopher has so far successfully contained explodes. ‘Not bother her? What the fuck? Does she even know?’ _

 

_ ‘The primaries are upcoming. She’s worked off her feet. She’s been away a lot. Besides, there isn’t any need for her to know. There isn’t anything she can do.’ _

 

_ ‘The primaries? The fucking primaries? You have cancer... you need to tell her.’ _

 

_ ‘No,’ his father remains infuriatingly calm. ‘No, I don’t need to tell her.’ _

 

_ Christopher tries to process this, taking the deep, measured breaths his therapist- the therapist he hasn’t told Georgia about, not yet- talked about. It’s no wonder his own marriage is so fucked up, given the state of his parents’ relationship. _

 

_ ‘So you’re terminal then?’ _

 

_ ‘We’re all terminal, kid. Time left is the only factor that counts.’ _

 

_ ‘Are you,’ Christopher begins, taking a drink, allowing a moment to clarify his turbulent thoughts, ‘Are you in palliative care then? Have you thought about end-of-life treatment?’ _

 

_ His father shrugs again. ‘There are clinics I can go to. I have their details.’ _

 

_ ‘And pain medication? If the cancer is in your bones... you must be in agony.’ _

 

_ Again, a nonchalant shrug. ‘I spend most of my days doped up on morphine. A nurse comes to the house, sits with me while I effectively shoot up in front of her. I’m going straight from here to a local hospice for some pain meds before I fly home tomorrow.’ _

 

_ ‘You aren’t still getting into the cockpit, are you?’ Christopher is aghast.  _

 

_ ‘If I can’t fly I might as well already be dead.’ _

 

_ Christopher leans forward. ‘What do you want from me, Dad? You clearly have this... this situation under control to your own liking. You aren’t telling Mom about it, so I’m struggling to understand why you are telling me. Especially since you and I haven’t spoken in nearly ten years.’ _

 

_ His father nods. ‘I’m here for three reasons. One is that now that I’m dying, I haven’t any excuse to hold anything back anymore. My upcoming demise is giving me a new lease of life on my opinions, ironically.’ _

 

_ ‘Meaning?’ _

 

_ ‘Leave your fucking wife, Chris.’ _

 

_ There it is. The statement Christopher has been waiting for, the words he hears in his head, every night when he goes to sleep, and then again, when he wakes in the morning. There is no grey area in these words. No middle ground to cling to. Just the black and white truth, unpalatable, desirable and-  _

 

_ Christopher swallows. And impossible. _

 

_ Georgia is so much a part of him now that he knows he will be lost without her. Her voice is the internal monologue of his mind, her body the catalyst of his own. Her desires have moulded with his, her needs and wants have bled into his own. He’s not sure he even knows how to live without her.  _

 

_ She is a poison to which he has become tolerant. And he will die without her sting. Without her pain. _

 

_ ‘What’s the second reason?’ He asks his father, unwilling to further contemplate the first. _

 

_ His father sighs, reaching into his wallet and bringing out a photo. He passes it to Christopher, who stares at the image for a long time. _

 

_ Dark hair frames an elfin face. Hazel eyes open wide above a lightly freckled nose. A smile, joking and spread from cheek to cheek, seems to laugh- with him, not at him- from beyond the page.  _

 

_ ‘Your sister, I suppose,’ his father says awkwardly.  _

 

_ ‘No. She really isn’t,’ Christopher replies immediately. He doesn’t know this girl. He’s never met her, or spoken with her, or even exchanged fucking Christmas cards with her. She’s not even an acquaintance, or family, let alone a sister. _

 

_ ‘Fine,’ his father agrees. _

 

_ ‘I thought you didn’t want to talk about her with me.’ _

 

_ ‘I don’t. I want to talk about her. I just wanted you to see this. I wanted you to see her picture.’ _

 

_ ‘Why?’ Chris asks, his mouth dry, the words strangled on his tongue. _

 

_ Because he already knows why, doesn’t he? _

 

_ ‘She’s an Omega,’ his father says quietly. ‘Fifteen-years-old, and an Omega.’ _

 

_ Christopher chews on the inside of his cheek, hating his father in that moment, but hating himself even more. _

 

_ ‘Look at her eyes, kid,’ his father carries on. ‘She has so much potential, you know. Engineering and mechanics are her speciality. She can fix anything. Rewire anything. Hot wire anything too, if the right person asks her,’ his father smirks. ‘I bet the government would kill to get her onboard, though obviously, I’d rather she ended up somewhere like NASA or-’ _

 

_ ‘Why don’t you get to the fucking point?’ Chris snaps. He doesn’t need this girl’s talents shoved down his throat. _

 

_ His father eyes him evenly. ‘All I’m saying is, how about instead of fucking Omega after Omega like a God-damned animal, you treat them like actual human beings. They aren’t your fucking playthings, they’re people. And you and that monster you’re married to should realise that. It’s too late for- how many accidental deaths have there been now, kid? Well, whatever, it’s too late for them.’ _

 

_ His father takes the photo out of Christopher’s hand. He still feels the paper like a ghostly burn on his skin.  _

 

_ ‘But it isn’t too late for the rest.’ _

 

_ Christopher stares at his father for a long time. He swallows several times, blinking back hot tears. His father’s words sting, like a wasp embedded in his heart.  _

 

_ But his father isn’t the real enemy, is he? Christopher’s greatest enemy, he realises, has always been himself. _

 

_ ‘Dad, are you sure that another round of chemotherapy won’t work-’ _

 

_ But his father only sighs. ‘I’ve had a good log of hours, kid. Now it’s time to arm the doors for my final flight.’ _

 

_ Christopher takes a deep, shuddering breath.  _

 

_ ‘You said there was a third thing?’ _

 

_ Now his father smiles. ‘Your conscious is already pretty muddied, right?’ _

 

_ Christopher nods. As his father said, how many accidental deaths have there been now? He doesn’t even want to think about it, let alone work out a tally. _

 

_ ‘Well,’ his father smiles again. ‘I have no desire to go in a drug-riddled cloud. No, I always wanted to plummet from the clouds in a glorious ball of flames.’ _

 

_ ‘What do you mean?’ Christopher asks, although he already knows exactly what he means. _

 

_ ‘I’m going to get into the cockpit of my plane tomorrow, kid. But I don’t ever want to get back out.’ _

 

_ Christopher sits in stunned silence. Is his father really asking him to...? But yes, of course he is. And he’s right. It doesn’t happen often, but in this- in fact, in everything he’s said today- he is right. His father, with all his faults, this man who shouldn’t ever have married his mother or sired children, has occasional but glorious moments of clarity that always surprise him.  _

 

_ Christopher has a brief memory of his father arguing against the summer camp his mother always insisted he go to. The summer camp run by her brother, for the future leaders of society. _

 

_ ‘It’s enriching,’ she huffed. ‘Of course he needs to go.’ _

 

_ ‘The kid just wants to fly,’ his father told her, with a shrug of his shoulders. ‘Don’t clip his wings. He’ll only resent us for it.’ _

 

_ But his mother refused to listen to the truth in his words. _

 

_ Yes, Christopher thinks. When his father wants to be, he is eloquent in his persuasiveness. _

 

_ His father shouldn’t die in a hospice bed, alone, in agony, surrounded by strangers. He should die the way he always wanted to, in that glorious ball of flames. _

 

_ ‘Okay Dad,’ he nods. ‘You get in the cockpit tomorrow, and I’ll arm the doors for your final flight.’ _

 

_ And at that his father smiles, reaching out to run a hand down Christopher’s cheek.  _

 

_ They both ignore the tears that stain his fingertips. _

 

_ *** _

 

Rey reads  _ Cronus, Unmasked  _ until the book is done, closing it from her kindle and then deleting it. She will never, she knows, read it again.

 

It is the story of Han’s death, she realises. From the moment Christopher- who she knows is Ben- tampers with the aircraft to ensure his father’s demise, the book veers into a parallel detailing the death of Christopher’s marriage. For both the plane and his relationship with his wife disintegrate, until Georgia ends up institutionalised and then dead by her own hand. At which point Christopher, finally liberated from her toxic presence, swears off Omegas forever, to make amends for his sins in the past.

 

It is dawn when Rey creeps up to the Big House, slipping easily into the hall and then upstairs to the room she knows is Ben’s. It is quiet in the early morning light, the curtains ruffling only slightly in the summer breeze. Ben’s breathing is even, deep with sleep. The smell of his body, while his chest lies bare against the sheets, makes Rey almost dizzy with desire.

 

But this is not about biology, or desire, or anything else so base.

 

This is about forgiveness.

 

She crawls into the bed next to Ben, wrapping her arms around him, laying her lips against his cheek. He wakes with a start, going to sit upright, before Rey gently pulls him back down and towards her.

 

‘We need to get out of this place,’ she tells him softly. ‘Let’s leave today.’

 

‘You read Cronus, then?’ Ben asks, and Rey nods.

 

‘Yes.’

 

‘And you don’t hate me-’

 

‘I keep telling you that I could never hate you.’

 

‘And I keep telling you that you should.’

 

Rey pauses. ‘Han was tired in the last few months of his life, I remember that. He slept more, took more trips. But I had no idea it was cancer- if I had known...’

 

‘He didn’t want anyone to know.’

 

Rey bites her lip, looking at Ben deep in the eyes. ‘I want you to know that I would have tampered with the plane too. If he had asked me, I would have done it in a heartbeat.’

 

‘He would never have asked it of you, and I’m glad,’ Ben whispers fiercely. ‘I don’t ever want you to know what it is like to have blood on your hands.’

 

Rey nods. ‘You left Alexandra because Han asked you to,’ she says.

 

‘No. That was the start of it, but not the reason.’

 

‘Why did you leave her then? You, and not Christopher, or Cronus, or Kylo Ren, or whoever you chose to be. Why did Ben Solo leave his wife?’

 

Ben brushes a stray hair from Rey’s face, pulling her closer to his body and warmth under the sheet.

 

‘I left her,’ he says simply, ‘because she gave me no other choice.’

 

Rey sighs with contented happiness as Ben’s fingers strum along her back. She could die happily like this, without this man ever even kissing her.

 

‘We leave today then,’ Ben says, and Rey nods against his neck.

 

‘Yes. Today.’ A thought suddenly occurs to her. ‘Where is it you live these days, anyway?’

 

Ben smirks. ‘Utah.’

 

‘Utah? You mean the desert?’

 

‘Where I am isn’t really the desert. But yes.’

 

‘Why there? Isn’t it terribly hot? I don’t know anything about Utah.’

 

‘Well, my grandfather was from Utah, for one thing. I inherited his estate, you know. But I’ve mainly stayed because I need the space.’

 

‘The space? You’re an author. What do you need the space for?’ Rey asks.

 

Ben smirks again. ‘You’ll see, Rey. You’ll see.’

 

***

 

There is an early European edition of  _ Cronus, Unmasked  _ which, whenever it surfaces, causes great excitement amongst Kylo Ren fans. 

 

For this edition contains a segment which was deleted from all other editions at the author’s request. 

 

A segment which, the fans claim, shows the true reason why Christopher leaves his wife.

 

It is short, but succinct.

 

_ Later, when his father has gone, to shoot up more pain meds and enjoy his final night of life, Georgia stomps down to the kitchen to find Christopher slumped over the bench, the whisky bottle very nearly empty. _

 

_ ‘The fucking Omega is asleep,’ she snarls at him, lifting his hair to try and rouse him from his drunkenness. ‘You were supposed to come play.’ _

 

_ Christopher mutters incomprehensible nonsense in response. _

 

_ Georgia looks away in disgust, before her eyes settle on something under the whisky bottle. Hazel eyes, peeking out at her from the rim of a bottle. _

 

_ ‘Who is this, Christopher?’ She asks innocently, as though she has any left at all in her rotten heart. _

 

_ ‘Sister,’ he mumbles. _

 

_ Georgia’s eyes light up. ‘A sister. How interesting,’ she licks her lips. ‘How very interesting. Is she an Omega?’ _

 

_ Christopher feels it then. A tight anxiety in his chest, blooming even through the shady haze of alcohol. _

 

_ ’She’s only fifteen,’ he slurs. _

 

_ Georgia smiles again. ‘Oh, so still quite young then. A young, pretty Omega,’ she sighs. ‘She could be fun for us, you know.’ _

 

_ The anxiety blossoms into outright hatred. _

 

_ ‘You should invite her to stay,’ Georgia continues, still smiling, still licking her lips. ‘A few weeks should do it. Invite her to stay, Christopher. I mean it.’ _

 

_ And as Georgia leaves the room, the picture still clasped in her hand, Christopher knows. He just knows. _

 

_ He has to get out of here. _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in some tellings of the myth, Cronus was a son of Gaia who killed his father Uranus. When he threw his father’s body into the surf, the fully formed Goddess Aphrodite emerged from the waves.
> 
> I really liked this as an analogy for this story. Cronus (Ben) kills his father so the daughter (Rey) might emerge.
> 
> There is, unbelievably, fluff in the next chapter. It’s so, so fluffy compared to what’s gone before.
> 
> See you soon.x


	15. To the Fires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I managed to get this edited during a heatwave. Not many chapters left to go now... once more, thank you for all your kudos and comments. They really do thrill me.

Ben’s home is a bruise on the dry plains of Utah.

 

The landscape here is scorched, dry and dusty, with rock formations cutting out of an unforgiving environment. Everything is yellow, red, and orange, sun-baked and water-starved, so that even the small patches of greenery- when they do grow through- quickly turn to straw in texture and colour.

 

From a thousand feet in the air, as they descend through a cloudless sky, Rey takes in the view of what is to be her new home. The sky is bright turquoise around them and the sun beats down brightly onto the rocky landscape. From her current vantage point she can make out no towns, cities or even roads, just miles and miles of sandstone desert and dust bowl plains. Timidly, she asks Ben just how much of the land below is his and he simply shrugs, a wordless indication that, just as she suspected, he owns it all.

 

They circle once around the house itself while Ben levels his plane- an Aviat Husky so smooth in flight that Rey itches to get her hands on the controls- toward the runway. On seeing the building, stark and foreboding against the desert, Rey feels her first real knot of trepidation. 

 

Ben’s house is pure black in colour, a sandstone monolith of squares and rectangles that, against the rocky landscape, feels oblique and entirely out of place. The house is a shadow in all this sunshine, a dark spot in the brightness of this world, cool and cold in the baking heat. 

 

‘Mustafar,’ Ben tells her, and Rey nods. On their last stop in South Dakota, while waiting for the plane to refuel, he’d told her all about the estate and house and how it came to be. Explained to her why anyone would make their home in this barren place, a world so empty and devoid of life that even the vast quantity of space itself seemed almost threatening. 

 

Mustafar was, of course, the brainchild of Vader and Palpatine. The two politicians, on their first run for office, had expected the state of Utah to be an easy victory, a quick stepping stone in their grab for power. They sold themselves as a conservative administration for a conservative nation, expecting their protectionist trade policies and pro-life stance to be enough to win them the state. 

 

But it was not. The voters, largely suspicious of the two men, ignored their policies in favour of discussing their personalities. Whispered rumours that Vader had once been a democrat hit them hard, as did Palpatine’s unmarried and childless status. The general mistrust felt for the duo cost them the state, and in every vote afterward, the senators from Utah made their lives difficult and negotiations hard. 

 

At Palpatine’s bidding, Vader built Mustafar as a passive aggressive insult to the state who so thoroughly rejected them. The site of their greatest failure was to be made the centre of their lasting legacy, a black mark on the golden sands of Utah, a huge parcel of land owned by the hated Vader. Ostensibly, it was to be Vader’s home, but Palpatine took his vendetta against the state to bitter lengths, allowing Mustafar to be used as a political base. Here in the sandstone desert Palpatine and Vader forged and broke diplomatic relationships, signed cutthroat treaties and rescinded on earlier political promises. Here they entertained the rich and wealthy, an elite who were fortunate enough to be able to buy political favour. Expensive galas were held for the beautiful, the corrupt and the power-hungry. Isolated in the bleak landscape, untold horrors occurred, from the political to the physical, hidden by the black night of a lonely land.

 

It was also thanks to the isolation of Mustafar that Vader’s affair with Senator Amidala went without notice for so long. Vader would fly Padme to his estate under a guise of politics, but even if they did discuss the odd treaty or law here and there, the words were hollow. Both Padme and Vader were aware that she was there to warm Vader’s heart and also his bed, both cold and untouched even in this hot desert. Vader would whisper sweet words into her shell-shaped ears under a bright moon, while drinking sweet wine from finely sculpted glasses. He would then take her to his room and undress her softly, reverent of her even in this, before fucking her gently with love and care, swallowing her moans with his mouth, jealous of any part of her that was not fully his own.

 

But it was also here at Mustafar that their love story ended, in tears on her part and in blind rage on his. 

 

‘Why tears?’ Rey asked, and Ben swallowed hard.

 

‘They’re both dead, and Leia would never talk about him,’ he said blankly. ‘But Luke once asked Kenobi, who insisted that Vader tried to kill Padme. Strangled her when she tried to end things with him. The site of his greatest political failure also became the site of his greatest personal failure.’

 

Rey’s silence was damning, and Ben looked at her quickly. ‘He didn’t know she was pregnant. He didn’t know that was why she was running off to Japan to marry some diplomat. He just thought she was giving up on him. Giving up on their work. They had so many similar policies and plans... just different methods of execution. He couldn’t bear the thought of her with anyone else, making plans with anyone else and-’ 

 

Suddenly Ben stopped, his words caught in his throat. He gave Rey a sad, empty look. ‘Well, they’re both dead now. It doesn’t matter in the end what happened,’ he sighed. ‘But in one of the letters Vader wrote during his cancer battle, he spoke of how much he longed to see her again, just one more time. To feel her warm breath against him. To see the flecks of happiness in her brown eyes. To see the smile that she gave only to him. He spoke of how he hoped heaven was real, if only so that he could prostrate himself on his knees before her, to implore her forgiveness and find his absolution in her eyes. He had no interest in God’s forgiveness, only hers. And he was prepared to burn in hell forever more if only he could take that absolution with him to the fires.’

 

‘And you still choose to live there? Knowing all that?’ Rey asked Ben in disbelief. For if the weight of Vader’s sad legacy sits heavily upon her, then how much more must it weigh upon him? 

 

‘Vader left everything to Luke and Leia. Leia wanted nothing to do with him, so immediately passed her share onto me. Luke likewise signed his portion over to me when Alexandra died,’ Ben admits. ‘He thought Mustafar would be a good place for me... isolated and quiet. Vader atoned for his sins here after Padme died. Luke wants me to atone for my sins here just the same.’

 

‘You don’t have to stay,’ Rey replied, hating Luke in that moment. ‘You don’t need to follow in Vader’s footsteps. You are your own man. Besides, Vader might have atoned for his sins here, in the place you described as the site of his greatest failure... but this place means nothing to you. Why stay?’

 

‘Where else should I go?’ Ben asked her bleakly. ‘Mustafar was the site of Vader’s greatest failures. Well, my body is the site of mine. I carry my failures with me constantly, here inside,’ Ben pressed a hand to the great expanse of his chest. ‘At least here in the desert, the only person that pain can now hurt is me. Besides, Mustafar is good for one thing. I told you I needed the space.’

 

‘Space for what?’ Rey asked again, but Ben only smiled, shaking his head.

 

Now, as they touch down on the runway at Mustafar, Rey does some mental calculations in her head. As soon as Ben has the plane off the runway and into a small hangar, she turns to him sharply.

 

‘Your runway here is over eight thousand feet in length,’ she says, as he powers down the engines. ‘You’re flying an Aviat Husky, which you can land in a field if you need to, and yet you have a runway eight thousand feet in length. Why?’

 

‘This isn’t my only plane,’ Ben replies easily.

 

‘Of course it isn’t, you’re a Solo after all,’ Rey remarks easily. ‘But eight thousand feet? Really? The northern runway at Gatwick is eight thousand feet long, and that’s an international airport, not a private strip in the desert. Even your father’s runway didn’t touch six thousand. So tell me, is your other plane a 747?’

 

‘No...’ Ben laughs, ‘No, not quite.’

 

Rey’s interest is immediately piqued. Deep inside her the blood of an aviator pumps hard, and at that moment it is practically bubbling with excitement. 

 

‘Not quite?’ She asks.

 

‘No,’ Ben’s voice is rich with promise. ‘My other plane is  _ better  _ than a 747.’

 

‘Show me,’ Rey demands instantly, and Ben laughs again.

 

They leave the Aviat and it’s small hangar behind, Ben indicating for Rey to leave her bags and follow him. She does, trailing behind him towards a much, much larger hangar at the other side of the runway. It is huge, so big that Rey’s mouth waters, and when Ben keys in a code to unlock the automatic doors, it then falls open unattractively. 

 

Not that she cares. At that moment, she couldn’t give a damn for her attractiveness. Not when the most beautiful thing she has ever seen sits so proudly before her.

 

‘That’s a De Havilland Comet,’ she whispers, star-struck, awe-struck and giddy.

 

‘Yes it is,’ Ben nods his head, but he isn’t looking at the plane. He’s looking at Rey, taking pleasure from her own, enjoying her smiles and the sheer look of wonder written all over her face. ‘Not just  _ any  _ De Havilland Comet though... this is a 1963 De Havilland Comet 4 as once owned by my father... he called it-’

 

‘ _ The Millenium Falcon _ ,’ Rey exhales, and before Ben can reply again she is off, practically skipping into the hangar and excitedly making a circle around the aircraft. ‘This is the  _ Milllenium Falcon _ ?’ She squeals. ‘The plane that did the Kessel run in six days? My God, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. She’s gorgeous.’

 

‘Don’t get too excited,’ Ben warns her. ‘She’s pretty much junk. After Han sold her she spent a few years in a poorly maintained museum before being stripped for parts. I bought her back after Han died, but she’s had it rough and it will take a few years to make her flight-worthy again.’

 

Rey turns to Ben, incredulity written all over her face. ‘Flight-worthy?’ She repeats, tasting the words in her mouth.

 

He nods, with a grin on his face so unlike the Ben Solo she knows that for a moment she is rendered completely silent. He looks happy, the happiest she has ever seen him, and she can’t help but smile back at him even as she argues against his words.

 

‘Flight-worthy?’ She says again. ‘You can’t mean that. Ben, this is a De Havilland Comet. No one flies a Comet anymore. No one flies De Havillands anymore,’ she turns back to the plane, once more taking a deep, appreciative breath. ‘No one flies planes like this anymore. They should, but they don’t.’

 

‘I’m going to,’ Ben tells her, and Rey looks over her shoulder to stare at him. His voice is filled with sheer determination and his eyes are glowing. His shoulders are set and the pride in his stance further widens the almost stupid grin she wears on her own face. A smile to match his.

 

‘You do realise,’ she begins, ‘that flying a De Havilland Comet 4 from a commercial airport would be like driving a Ford Model T down the M1?’

 

‘The M1?’ Ben frowns.

 

Rey shakes her head. ‘A British motorway.’

 

‘Motorway?’ He frowns again.

 

‘Americans...’ Rey rolls her eyes. ‘A freeway I guess. Or an interstate. Or a highway. I’m never really sure what you call them here.’

 

Ben grins. ‘Roads, honey. We call them roads.’

 

‘Oh, it’s  _ honey  _ now, is it?’ Rey asks, still smiling. ‘Well, you’ll have to forgive  _ this  _ honey for being confused. I am in the land where people drive on a parkway and park on a driveway, after all.’

 

‘And you’re from the land where people eat spotted dick for dessert and pudding for dinner,’ Ben replies. ‘Neither of which are particularly tasty, by the way.’

 

Rey smirks. ‘If you don’t enjoy a good spotted dick for dessert you’re probably eating it wrong.’

 

Ben stares at her, aghast. ‘Did you... Rey, did you just make a sex joke?’

 

‘I’m British,’ Rey says instantly. ‘I don’t think we know any other kind.’

 

Ben continues to look at her, clearly still in shock. His slack-jawed reaction to her bawdy sense of humour is, in itself, almost amusing, but Rey’s attention at that moment is divided. She turns from Ben and his look of stunned disbelief to look back to the plane, desperate to run a hand along her fuselage.

 

‘Maintenance ladder?’ She queries, and Ben motions to the rear of the hangar. 

 

Fifteen minutes later Rey is in heaven. She’s leaning against a De Havilland Comet 4, her skin flush with the cool exterior of the classic aircraft, staring deeply into a Rolls Royce Avon engine buried deep within the wing. Below her, Ben leans against the ladder, watching her with a detached sort of interest. But it is a detachment Rey knows is entirely forced; she can see that Ben is desperate to know what she thinks of his plane.

 

‘I think you’re in love,’ he remarks sardonically, and the grin Rey gives him as she glances down appears to take his breath away.

 

‘I think you’re right,’ she breathes, running both hands along the wing. It is an embrace of sorts, a homecoming of others. This was Han Solo’s plane after all, his pride and joy, and Rey can feel him in every rivet and panel. She shares another smile with Ben, for in that moment, the spirit of Han practically springs from the alloy of this glorious aircraft. And it is no haunting ghost of recriminations, but a joyous shout, a happy crackling of energy. Han, Rey knows, has at last found peace in this reunion of his prodigal son and wandering daughter. And she laughs as her tears fall onto the wing of the Comet, wiping them away with her sleeve.

 

Happy tears, just as a mother with her feet in the ocean once promised her.

 

‘Rey?’ Ben’s use of her name is not so much a question, but a call for attention. And when she looks down, her eyes still blurred with tears, she sees that his are wet too. 

 

Their eyes match, just as their smiles and hearts do too.

 

For a moment it is all too much, and Rey can only nod at Ben silently. She wipes away another tear as she laughs again.

 

‘Yes,’ she finally says. ‘Yes Ben. I feel it too.’

 

***

 

They spend all afternoon locked away in the hangar before Rey’s rumbling stomach forces them up to the house. Rey is loath to leave the Falcon, but Ben assures her she can visit the hangar anytime she wishes.

 

‘She needs re-wiring and outfitting,’ Ben says, wiping his hands on his trousers as they walk away from the plane, locking the doors behind them. ‘New engines too, plus the window frames and fuselage will need replacing.’

 

Rey winces. ‘That won’t be easy. De Havilland don’t even exist anymore, let alone make those sorts of spares.’

 

‘I can have them built, for the right price,’ Ben admits. ‘But the work itself will be tricky. I’m going to call in a team of aeronautical engineers and mechanics- I meant what I said, Rey. I want her flightworthy. I want her to make the Kessel run again.’

 

Rey whistles under her breath. ‘The Kessel run? That will be a feat in a Comet. People don’t just fly these birds into commercial airports anymore, Ben.’

 

‘If I organise it well enough and pay the landing fees, they’ll let me.’

 

‘You’re confident, I’ll give you that,’ Rey replies. ‘But Berlin to Berlin, around the world in a Comet 4, in six days?’ Rey shakes her head. ‘I don’t know if that’s possible.’

 

‘I’ll do it,’ Ben says firmly, and his tone is so confident, so dripping with determination, that Rey feels her heart skip a beat.

 

‘We’ll do it,’ she corrects him, stopping for a moment to take his hand. ‘I’ll help you.’

 

At her words Ben pauses, his feet still, his eyes locked on their hands, his pupils tracing the outline of their fingers, entwined together so Rey can hardly tell where she begins and he ends. He looks so serious that for a moment Rey thinks he is going to reject her offer and push her away again, to retreat from her like he is so, so good at. 

 

But instead he squeezes her hand. ‘I’d like that,’ he says quietly.

 

‘Did you know Han gave me a De Havilland Fox Moth once?’ Rey asks, as they carry on to the house, still hand-in-hand. ‘He had this crazy idea I could fly it one day.’

 

‘That was yours?’ Ben gapes. ‘You never said- I donated it to a museum... I would never have done that if you’d only said she was yours-’

 

But Rey stops him. ‘I’m glad you donated her,’ she says. ‘She was so beautiful. Too beautiful to keep alone, and the world deserves to see her again. De Havilland’s are too wonderful to keep locked away.’

 

Ben gives her a half-smile. ‘That’s the problem with things of beauty though. Some people want to keep them locked away, even if it means depriving the world of something wonderful.’

 

Rey is almost certain that Ben is talking about more than aircraft at that moment. She almost blushes, catching herself quickly, reminding herself not to be foolish. 

 

‘Han would’ve wanted her donated too,’ she quickly continues. ‘He loved De Havillands. Everything about them. Even allowing for the fact that they were British.’

 

‘Well,’ Ben reflects. ‘He had good taste.’

 

Now Rey blushes. Against the Utah sunset her skin glows pink, her hair dappled by the evening light. Ben reaches a hand towards her, running his thumb against her lip, just as he did the other night. That other night, when they lay on Han’s runway, looking at the stars. That other night, when he almost kissed her. 

 

Without thinking, Rey sucks his thumb into her mouth, kissing it gently before releasing it from the warmth of her mouth. Ben visibly shudders with pleasure, but it is a pleasure tainted with sadness.

 

‘I saw you, you know,’ he whispers. ‘This morning, at the airport, before you came to me. I saw you and Poe.’

 

Rey takes a deep breath. Because of course, of course Ben saw  _ that.  _

 

‘He kissed you,’ Ben carries on sadly. 

 

‘It was my first,’ Rey admits softly. Her guilt is almost crippling. 

 

Ben only sighs, taking both of his hands and running them from her chin to her shoulders, ghosting an outline of affection on skin Rey knows he will never claim or kiss. 

 

‘It won’t be your last,’ he tells her, with bittersweet maturity. 

 

‘Ben, I-’ She wants to tell him that Poe kissed her. That she was desperate for some sort of affection. That she felt nothing. But she stops, unwilling to be caught in a lie. Because she did feel something. She felt excitement and apprehension. She felt the sudden weight of adulthood. She felt the emergence of her Omega. But beyond it all, she felt the obscene desire for it to have been Ben. 

 

Rey feels the blunt grip of sad despair, for she has fallen into that age old trap of wanting what she can never have.

 

But Ben shakes his head at her. ‘You don’t have to say anything, Rey. God knows you don’t have to explain yourself to me.’

 

‘But Ben...’

 

‘It’s okay, Rey.’

 

‘Truthfully?’’

 

Ben’s grip on her tightens. ‘Truthfully? Truthfully I’m resisting the urge to jump straight back into the cockpit and fly to New York so I can kill Poe Dameron. But I won’t. Not today. Not ever.’

 

‘Because he doesn’t deserve it,’ Rey says, and Ben looks surprised. Surprised, and a little saddened.

 

‘No. Not for him,’ he says. ‘I don’t give a shit about him. No, I won’t do it simply because you wouldn’t like it.’

 

Rey stares at him, unbelievably flattered and frightened all at once. Because the welling of feeling within her... how can it be possible to feel so much, so soon, all at once?

 

‘Ben-’

 

‘No. No more on him. He doesn’t belong here with us. Come on, let me show you around.’

 

***

 

Later that night, while Rey unpacks her few sparse belongings into her new room, her phone rings. 

 

It’s Poe.

 

‘Hey, sweetheart,’ he says. His voice is unnaturally airy, and Rey knows he is anxious to speak with her without appearing to be so. 

 

‘Hi,’ she returns flatly.

 

‘You made it there okay then? Everything okay... with the flight? The house?’ Poe clears his throat. ‘With him?’

 

‘Yes. It’s all fine.’ She tries to recall the feel of Poe’s lips on her own. The warmth. The softness. The feel of his tongue pressing against hers. 

 

But all she can remember is Ben, and the weight of his thumb against her lips.

 

‘You sound tired,’ Poe remarks.

 

‘I am,’ Rey admits. ‘It’s been a long day.’

 

‘Well, get to bed then sweetheart. But call me tomorrow, okay?’

 

‘Alright.’

 

‘And Rey?’

 

‘Yes, Poe?’

 

‘Look,’ Poe’s voice is doing it again, that unnatural airiness. Rey resists the urge to end the call immediately. ‘Look, I know we didn’t talk about it again... but this move to Utah, with Ben. Has it changed anything?’

 

‘Anything?’ Rey repeats.

 

‘Between us, I mean,’ Poe continues. ‘Us and... and your heat. Have our plans... have they changed, Rey?’

 

Rey takes a deep breath, remembering Ben and the look in his eyes when he admitted he’d seen her kiss with Poe. That unbearable sadness. That unbelievable acceptance.

 

Ben has told her again and again that nothing will ever change. That he might want her, but will never have her. 

 

It’s time for Rey to accept that fact, and move on.

 

‘No,’ she exhales. ‘No, nothing’s changed, Poe. Our plans are still the same.’

 

And the guilt she feels is so intense, she wonders how she will ever sleep well again.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to get the Millenium Falcon in there, didn’t I? 
> 
> And more fun aviation facts... the De Havilland Comet was the passenger aircraft that revolutionised commercial airliners. It’s beautiful to look at, and I saw one flying once at an aviation show and nearly lost my mind. It is seriously a gorgeous aircraft.
> 
> Next chapter is called ‘Heat’ btw.
> 
> See you soon.x


	16. Heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit of a beast.
> 
> I’m sorry.
> 
> I like to keep my chapters to 4000 words in length but this one got away from me.
> 
> Mentions of past Bazine/Kylo... and then the Reylo!

Bazine Netal has it all figured out.

 

Ebony of hair and white of skin, with lips so scarlet they are like a slash of blood on her skin, Bazine cuts an impressive figure as she boards her flight from LAX. She is an exquisitely beautiful and immaculately turned out woman, adorned in designer clothing tailored to the sharp contours of her body. Her shoes are high, structured and painful to wear, but she walks without any indication that her feet feel crippled. Bazine knows that the expensive strip of red she flashes with every step more than makes up for her discomfort, and besides, she enjoys the jealous glances and sideways looks of lust and admiration that follow in her wake. She is a woman who thrives off the cheap attention of others, for their momentary adoration is the culmination of years of work and effort on her part. For truly, there is nothing effortless about her seemingly effortless beauty. Her looks and poise and grace are the result of endless visits to the gym, a punishing diet of restriction and self-deprivation, constant hair appointments, and an unending cycle of waxing, scrubbing and polishing. Pain, so far as Bazine is concerned, walks hand-in-hand with beauty. Not that it matters, not that she cares- Bazine never falters in her rigorous attention to her own appearance, for she understands- and understands with a blinding clarity- that you don’t get places in life without looking the part. And she definitely looks the part.

 

Because Bazine Netal has it all figured out.

 

She’s spent the last ten years in L.A working as a literary agent, and Kylo Ren is the biggest name on her roster of clients. Their mutual work to forward their careers has made them lots of money, and Bazine appreciates Kylo for being a consummate hard worker. He is an author who regularly turns out books that have best-seller written all over them, and he does so in a timely manner that smacks of a good work ethic. She can sell his books anywhere and to anyone, taking a nice cut of his profits. She feels no guilt for this, understanding that their skills benefit one another. He can write and she can sell, and together they are an unstoppable literary force.

 

Because Bazine Netal has it all figured out.

 

But for the past four years, their relationship has been a mix of the personal and the professional. Once a month, Kylo flies into LAX and meets with Bazine to discuss sales, film rights and distribution. The meetings are always held in her office and always start out as strictly professional. But after about an hour, when her skin is burning with every accidental touch of his hand and he’s looked at her with  _ those eyes _ a little too often, they will jump in a cab and head to a hotel, where Kylo will spend the next twelve hours fucking her hard into the mattress. Quite frankly, there is nothing like signing off on a million-dollar sale from Frankfurt with Kylo’s dick in her mouth, and when he thanks her for both by picking her up, throwing her on the bed and slaving his tongue all over her, she could die with satisfaction. He is the best fuck buddy she could ever want or ask for, although she never, ever does, and knows she never will. To actually  _ ask  _ for him, or to make any non-professional demands of him at all, goes against the very nature of what has so far been a very successful colleagues-with-benefits relationship.

 

Because Bazine Netal has it all figured out.

 

So when Kylo misses their appointment that first month, she lets it slide. His mother has died and he has family issues to deal with, his very perfunctory email states. She gets it, it’s no big deal. The second month, when Bazine has bought a whole new set of lingerie for him to shred, he phones in to ask if he can look over their paperwork digitally. He’s busy with the new book, he tells her casually, and though the absence of his physical presence stings, she agrees immediately. Bazine has recognised for a long time that she needs to tread carefully with Kylo, that if she ever wants a real relationship with him- which she very much does- than she needs to give the impression of not wanting him much at all. The third month, he flies into LAX and Bazine is so wet and ready for this Alpha that she briefly wonders if she might be an Omega after all. But Kylo ignores all her obvious sexual advances, and at the end of the meeting, when she’d normally palm his cock through his trousers and let him put his fingers up her skirt, he simply shakes her hand and walks away. She’s furious, her blood burning with his clear rejection of her; uncharacteristically, she needs a few minutes to steady her breathing and lick her wounded pride. She has no idea how to feel in this moment, because no man in his right mind has ever turned her down before. She goes to her window, still taking calming gulps of air, when she looks outside to see him greeting another girl with a smile on his face that makes her stop and think. For the smile he wears is one she herself has never seen. It is wide and goofy and happy and... and  _ genuine _ , Bazine realises with real alarm. And when he takes the girl’s hand, ostensibly to help her into their shared cab, his fingers linger on hers and Bazine’s eyes narrow dangerously.

 

Because Bazine Netal has it all figured out.

 

Five months after their last tryst, when Kylo phones in to the office to cancel on her yet again, Bazine has had more than enough of this shit. She pulls out some papers that- in all honesty- could probably wait another month or two, but in that moment are recklessly upgraded to a matter of urgency. She books herself on the first flight to Salt Lake City, messages Kylo to let him know, and then turns her phone to airplane mode for take-off, even though the well-meaning flight attendant emphatically tells her she can keep it on if she likes these days. When she lands in SLC there is a message from Kylo telling her not to come to Utah, that he will fly to L.A the next day. She sends off a text to let him know she has already arrived, and after five minutes of radio silence her phone pings again, this time giving directions to a nearby hotel. Bazine reads this with a great deal of satisfaction, because she knows what Kylo wants, what he  _ does,  _ when he gets her to a hotel. Her thighs clench with anticipation and arousal filters through her body, but before it even has a chance to pool in her cunt her phone pings again. ‘Don’t get a room on my behalf,’ the less promising message reads. ‘Will meet you tomorrow in the bar to sign all papers.’

 

Well, Bazine won’t be having that. She isn’t spending a night in Salt Lake fucking nowhere City unless some Kylo delivered orgasms come with her dinner, bed and breakfast package. No. She wants Kylo and she’s waited long enough to have him. She’s dressed to seduce in the killer suits he loves and Kylo needs to see exactly what he has been missing these last few months. Besides, she suspects that in the cool air of a hotel lobby he will play it very safe with her. He has a new girl, after all. A new girl Bazine intends to relegate back to the minor leagues, while she, his fuck-buddy of the year, goes back to World Series of sex status. Bazine, oddly, has never had problem with Kylo’s personal life before; she knows that he has numerous women, and quite frankly, she thrives in the competitive atmosphere. Bazine tolerates his many affairs in her supreme confidence that, one day, she will be endgame for Kylo. But this new girl... this new girl... Bazine frowns. All she’d seen of the new girl was a scrap of brown hair and a flash of tanned skin. No style, no substance, and no polish whatsoever. Next to Bazine, this new girl is nothing.

 

And yet... Bazine frowns. For this new girl is nothing. But Kylo had smiled at her like she was everything.

 

It’s forward of Bazine to think of going to Kylo’s place in Utah. She’s known him long enough and well enough to know that he prefers to be alone at Mustafar. He works better in silence, apparently. Even Bazine, his premium fuck du jour, has never been there. Kylo likes to keep his sexual affairs to glossy hotels in cosmopolitan cities, faceless rooms for the faceless women he lures into this timeless act. Mustafar, his home, is different. It is a literal oasis in the desert for Kylo, his personal space, and untouched by feminine influence. 

 

But today, Bazine could give a flying fuck for Kylo’s personal space. She needs Kylo. She needs his cock and passion and the personal validation she finds in both, which, over the last four years, has become strangely addictive. So, ignoring both texts, Bazine immediately finds an Uber driver who she agrees to pay an obscene amount of money to in order to get to her lover’s side. Like the money even matters, she thinks. She can always expense it.

 

Because Bazine Netal has it all figured out.

 

When she arrives at Mustafar that evening, just as the sun is setting and painting the desert a pink and orange hue, Bazine follows the sound of laughter to a table by the pool. Her heart nearly stops, for there, next to Kylo and smiling happily, sits the new girl. The fucking new girl. At Mustafar, where Kylo never takes his women.

 

And Kylo... Kylo is not happy to see her.

 

He is coolly polite when he greets her, and they run through a basic and extremely professional conversation about the paperwork Bazine has unnecessarily rushed to the desert. All the while, Bazine steals glances at the new girl, sizing up her competition.

 

She feels better with each look, for the new girl is nothing special. Brown hair and tanned skin. A smattering of freckles. She’s tall and thin, which momentarily worries Bazine, who still regrets her own petite five foot two inch frame. But for all the new girl’s height, she’s dressed plainly, without a scrap of makeup on, and... and is that oil on her hands? And dirt on her cheek? Bazine smirks.

 

Kylo must see this though, because he frowns. His hands clench, he clears his throat and then indicates to the girl.

 

‘My sister,’ he tells her, and Bazine winces. Because fuck. She’s travelled all this way in her crippling heels and shown her weakness for Kylo and all for a fucking  _ sister. _

 

But the girl doesn’t smile at Bazine or rise to greet her. She stays at the table, saying nothing, looking only at Kylo and that... that’s strange to Bazine. And Kylo, even though he talks to Bazine and answers her questions with suitably appropriate responses, looks straight back at her. Kylo and his sister stare at one another and it’s almost like they are having a silent conversation, as though there is nobody else in the world there with them in that moment. They exchange a look so filled with private anguish and deep longing that Bazine shifts uncomfortably. The way they look at each other... Bazine’s never seen that in siblings before. It’s electric and intriguing and vastly unsettling.

 

But then, as if a spell is broken, the sister springs into action. She stands, showing off a pair of long, shapely legs, and ushers Bazine to the table. She pours her a glass of wine, and asks politely how her trip was. How the flight was. How she likes Los Angeles and she’s... she’s British. The sister is British. And that’s another oddity to Bazine. Because Kylo is as American as they come.

 

‘You’ll have to stay the night,’ the sister suddenly says, ‘you can’t go back to Salt Lake City this late,’ and Kylo frowns. He frowns at his sister and his obvious displeasure radiates all over them, just like the sun. Because Bazine has clearly interrupted something. 

 

‘I wouldn’t want to presume...’ Bazine begins, and Kylo scowls.

 

‘You already have,’ he mutters.

 

An awkward silence follows, and the sister springs up like a coltish lamb. ‘I’m just going to clear the table,’ she says, dashing up a few plates and stalking into the house with them.

 

And momentarily Bazine relaxes, because perhaps Kylo has spoken of her to his sister, and she must want to give them some privacy. Perhaps she thinks this is a lover’s spat, and recognises that Bazine and Kylo might need a moment. They need more than a moment, actually. Bazine is feeling a clench of desire, a rush of excitement that her long-delayed pleasure will finally be satisfied, and suddenly, she can’t wait for the sister to go to bed, so that she and Kylo can do likewise.

 

But the sister is hardly gone a minute when Kylo follows her. And now Bazine feels it. A sickly sensation in her stomach as the formation of an unpalatable idea takes real shape in her mind. She drinks her wine slowly, giving Kylo and his sister five, and then ten, and then finally fifteen minutes before following them indoors. 

 

By the kitchen sink, Kylo’s sister cries. Her cheeks are wet, her eyes red, and Kylo... Kylo is pressed against her, his hands in his sister’s hair, whispering into her ear. Occasionally he pulls her face up to his, licking the tears from her cheeks.

 

Bazine doesn’t make a sound. She’s not an idiot. She’s read  _ Heatseeker  _ and  _ Cronus, Unmasked  _ and all the other pseudo-autobiographical rantings Kylo produces. Really, given all the fucked-up shit Kylo has done, a sexual relationship with his sister- or at least the desire for one- shouldn’t surprise her. Hell, Bazine could probably release this to the press and expect a sales stampede as people inhale the scandal. She could capitalise on this taboo and make a fucking mint.

 

Because Bazine Netal has it all figured out.

 

Later that night, when she lies sleeplessly upon a bed in one of the guest rooms, Kylo visits her. He doesn’t talk as he methodically removes her nightwear, but it is without his usual passion or lust, and as Bazine clutches at him, she thinks she understands. Kylo, in bedding her, is trying to make a point. Whether it is to himself or his sister, Bazine doesn’t know. Quite frankly, she doesn’t care. She just wants things to go back to the status quo. She wants this man to worship her as he once did. Or at least, as she once fooled herself into believing he did. 

 

But no matter how much he kisses her, they are empty and without feeling. He mauls her breasts, plucking at her nipples until they are raw. He palms at her cunt, slipping three fingers inside and fucking her with them until she is panting, and still... still nothing. His growl, when he makes it, is not of desire but of pure frustration. 

 

Bazine, in a last-ditch effort to save it all, pulls his face to hers. ‘Pretend I’m her, if it helps,’ she says, in what she wants to be a sexy voice. But she almost winces when she hears how needy she sounds, how desperate.

 

Kylo doesn’t seem to mind though, and for a moment, Bazine thinks it has worked. Kylo closes his eyes, running a hand down the length of her body and shuddering. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue over it and biting down gently, causing Bazine to buck her hips towards his. 

 

‘Kylo,’ she breathes, encouraging him to go on.

 

But his eyes snap open, and he instantly moves away from her.

 

‘Fuck,’ he says. ‘Fuck.’

 

‘What is it, Kylo?’ Bazine asks, as if she doesn’t know what, or more likely  _ who  _ the problem is.

 

But he shakes his head. ‘This... this is all wrong. I can’t do this anymore.’

 

‘Kylo...’ Bazine begins desperately, ‘Kylo, we can work on this. Kylo, you just need-’

 

But the look he gives her immediately freezes the words on her lips.

 

‘My name is Ben,’ he says, as he picks up his discarded clothes from the floor of the room. ‘And I think you should leave.’

 

Bazine feels mild panic. ‘Leave? But I just got here and...’

 

And she stops. Because now she’s regarding Kylo with muted horror. ‘My God...’ she says. ‘My God... you’re in love with her, aren’t you?’

 

The look Kylo gives her is cold and empty. As empty as the half-hearted kisses he bestowed upon her just a few moments ago. But his eyes... Bazine can see that flash of panic in their black depths. He is like a caged animal, trapped and unable to find a way out.

 

‘You should leave,’ he says again by way of response, ‘you’re selling yourself short by waiting for me.’ And then he leaves, slamming the door behind him as he goes.

 

As she stares at the door, Bazine knows that after this trip she won’t ever see him again. That their time is done. That in this respect, in his rejection, she has failed somehow. Bazine, who never fails, has been unsuccessful in her pursuit of Kylo. And she feels horrifically empty at the prospect. 

 

But she also knows she’ll get over it. That she will move on, just as she has always has. Losing Kylo stings, especially now, as she wakes to the knowledge that he was never really hers in the first place.

 

But she’ll get over it. She’s Bazine Netal. And she won’t play second fucking fiddle to Kylo’s sister, of all people. For Bazine is fairly certain that Kylo Ren is in love with his sister, and that his sister is in love with him. They might not want to admit it, and with good reason too, because kissing cousins is one thing but incest... well, this is a  _ soap opera  _ level of star-crossed love. But their feelings for each other are glaringly obvious to her in a way that it isn’t yet to them.

 

Because unlike them, unlike fucked up Kylo Ren and his poor fucked up sister, Bazine Netal has it all figured out.

 

***

 

Rey thrives in the desert in a way she would never have thought possible. 

 

Like a desert rose, she feels herself bloom under the warm sun and open blue skies. Her eyes glow, her skin browns and her hair becomes burnished with gold and copper strands. One afternoon, while Ben is knee-deep in edits, his brow furrowed and fingers so tightly wrapped around his pen it is a wonder he hasn’t yet snapped it in two, Rey pools at his feet. Over the few weeks she’s lived with Ben, she’s grown to understand that he finds his work highly immersive and very stressful. She’s also come to understand, through trial and error mostly, that her physical presence as he works makes him less anxious and more productive. And so she’s taken to doing this, to sitting by his feet as he types or edits, looking at plans for the Falcon’s hydraulics or scavenging for spare parts online. Normally Ben makes no comment when she joins him, giving her a simple smile before going back to his work. So this time, when he leans forward and runs both of his hands through her hair from root to tip, letting the strands fall through his fingers, Rey jolts with surprise, goosebumps erupting all over her body.

 

‘You’re like every colour of the sun, did you know that?’ Ben exhales, holding her hair to the light. ‘Gold and bronze and copper all at once. It’s so beautiful,’ he pauses, his eyes squeezed shut as he once again strokes her hair. ‘You’re beautiful. So beautiful that sometimes... sometimes I can hardly breathe in your presence.’

 

It is the first time he has touched her-  _ really  _ touched her- since their arrival at Mustafar. 

 

But it isn’t the last.

 

It is like a cork being popped on their relationship, that first touch of his hand on her hair. After that, Ben can hardly keep his hands off her. Whenever they are together he finds some reason to touch or stroke her, and she likewise with him. In the morning, after he has been for his run and she for her swim, he tries valiantly to braid her hair, following her instructions patiently. Still, he always and inevitably finds his hands knotted within her locks, pulling at his self-made bondage until Rey’s mouth is dry and her heart pounding. 

 

‘I never knew chains could be so appealing,’ he tells her, kissing her neck so that she shivers.

 

After they’ve worked, he on his book and she on the Falcon, they make dinner together. Rey teaches Ben how to make roast beef and Yorkshire puddings, British-style pancakes and chicken tikka masala. Knowing her love for sweets he introduces her to American candy, but on seeing her screwed up nose and polite protestations that the confectionary is too ‘much’ for her tastes, he bulk-orders in her beloved British Cadbury’s. When they watch a movie, cuddled together on the sofa, Ben likes to feed her pieces of chocolate, letting his fingers linger on her lips. Sometimes Rey, without even understanding why, will suck his fingers into her mouth, stroking her tongue against them until Ben shifts, rock hard, against her. 

 

Rey knows that had Maz Kanata been there, she would’ve told them that their behaviour was merely the result of an Alpha and Omega spending far too much time together. But Rey refuses to believe that, because this is Ben, this is her and this is  _ them,  _ and it has reached the point where not being with Ben is stranger than being with him. However he touches her, however she touches him, nothing leaves her less satisfied and distressed than not having him near her. And he seems to feel the same, given how violently he reacts to her sparse trips into town. He says nothing as she goes, makes no sound of protest or give any sign that she should just  _ stay _ ... but then he doesn’t need to, because in those moments his scent becomes so potently aggressive and protective that Rey can literally smell his distress. His watches her go with his arms crossed, the lines of his face set, and... and he stays that way, until she returns, safe and sound and whole and back by his side. Then Rey can feel him relax, feel the tension ebb from his body, and he will pull her into his arms and breathe against her hair, his scent once more warm and familiar and so, so  _ Ben  _ again.

 

‘I missed you,’ he tells her, over and over, like a mantra into her skin. ‘I missed you so much.’

 

Their reluctance to be apart spills over into Ben’s professional life. Two months after Rey arrives, Ben frowns as he tells her that he has to go to L.A to sign some papers and meet with his agent. Rey has noted that here in Utah Ben goes by the name Kylo. From the engineers who work with Rey on the Falcon, to the ground staff and housekeeping team who keep Mustafar running, all of them address him as ‘Kylo’ or ‘Mr. Ren.’ Here at Mustafar, the only Ben Solo is the one known to Rey, and she becomes very protective of that. Kylo Ren, she tells him, can to go L.A for as long as wants. 

 

‘But Ben Solo comes home to me,’ she adds fiercely.

 

But in the end, the prospect of three days separation is too much for either of them, and Ben flies Rey to L.A to keep him company. He spends the absolute minimum of time working, preferring to spend his days at the beach with Rey. 

 

Rey’s memories of the ocean are mostly unpleasant. Cold and murky British waters in rocky bays. Greasy food and sand whipped into your face by the wind. Her mother’s bruises. Her father’s fists. She’s never had a love for the ocean, preferring to shy away for environments with less traumatic associations.

 

Ben changes all that for Rey. The beach he takes her, far south of L.A and away from the smog of the city, is sandy and warm and the sound of the waves as they break on the beach mesmerises her. In the distance Rey can see dolphins frolicking in the surf, and she clutches Ben’s arm with real excitement. She swims as much as she can, loving the feel of the push and pull of the tide around her body, drying herself under the sun when she gets tired.

 

Ben finds a restaurant on the boardwalk where he can drink coffee and write, and his smile when Rey comes to find him for lunch, wringing her hair out with her hands, is the best she has ever seen on him.

 

‘Happy?’ He asks her, and she nods emphatically as she eats freshly-caught fish or shares with him a large tray of prawns, served with ice-cold lime.

 

‘Shrimp,’ he corrects her. ‘It’s shrimp here.’

 

‘It’s delicious in any language,’ she replies.

 

They talk for hours and hours, about anything and everything. Ben surprises Rey occasionally, when he says something that reminds her so much of Leia or Han that she could cry. Sometimes, when she least expects it, he shows Leia’s tolerance and liberalism or Han’s dry sense of humour and it makes the breath catch in Rey’s throat. He must sense this, because he turns to her with knowing eyes and strokes her fingertips with his own.

 

‘You do it too,’ he says, ‘without even realising it. There’s so much of them inside of us both.’

 

‘Well, they were our parents,’ Rey replies, though this is dangerous territory for them, this acknowledgment of their true kinship.

 

Ben swallows hard. ‘Do you regret it?’ He asks, and she knows he refers not to her adoption, but to their status as siblings first and foremost.

 

‘I can’t change it, so what’s the point of regret?’ She looks at him. ‘Do you?’

 

His eyes regard her hotly. ‘I regret many things in my life. None of them are anything to do with you. I want you in my life, Rey. Even if it is only as your guardian. Or as your brother.’

 

But four months after Rey’s arrival, Ben is acting anything but brotherly towards her. She has her nineteenth birthday, and Ben gifts her with a small light aircraft and flying lessons. Her teacher is a man named Lando, who once knew Han and flew the Falcon. He’s impressed with Rey’s knowledge and natural talent for aviation, and tells Ben as much when Rey passes her piloting test with ease.

 

‘With her talent, kid, she needs to go to school. With the right qualifications, Boeing and Airbus would fall over themselves to hire her. She needs to go to school. You can’t keep her buried out here in the desert forever, kid.’

 

Lando’s words must play on both of their minds, because that night Ben asks the awkward question both have avoided for the past five months. 

 

‘It’s December now,’ Ben tells her. ‘You could apply to one of the Omega schools at any of the major colleges for January entry,’ he swallows. 

 

But Rey hears the unspoken words. He doesn’t want her to leave. And she doesn’t want to go.

 

She shakes her head. ‘I’m happy here,’ she tells him. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

 

_ Not without you,  _ she thinks. And Ben must know, because he nods, his eyes never leaving hers.

 

Before Christmas, four things happen in quick succession. The first is that Poe Dameron makes an unscheduled visit to Salt Lake City. He’s been working in Washington for an up and coming senator and has three days off to visit Rey.

 

When Rey tells Ben where she is going- to who she is going- she sees his fists clench and his lips thin as he presses them together. If he didn’t like her leaving before then now... now he’s positively livid. But he keeps it together well enough to simply nod and ask when she will be home and where she is staying, just like any other good big brother would. 

 

‘Don’t you want to know...’ Rey begins, but Ben turns away, panic in his eyes.

 

‘No,’ he says coldly. ‘No. You have a right to your own personal life, Rey, just as I do.’

 

She opens her mouth to protest, because that hasn’t been the case since her arrival all those months ago. She has stayed with Ben, and he has stayed with her. Despite all of Ben’s warnings, there have been no other men, and no other women. Just them. It seems Ben would rather be sexless with her than sexual without her, and for a time, it has worked. 

 

But now Rey has to ask herself: how much longer can this continue? How much longer can they go before one of them gives in to their natural urges? 

 

Poe meets her at her hotel, smiling widely and Rey has forgotten how much she likes him. They keep their chat mostly about her flying and his work, and when he asks, after a loaded pause, about Ben and her plans for school, Rey blushes. 

 

Poe frowns. ‘If at any point you want to leave, Rey, you can. I’ll come back for you, sweetheart.’

 

But she doesn’t want to leave, and that’s getting harder and harder to admit, the longer things go on. 

 

When she returns the next day, Ben is upon her in an instant. He pulls her to him and burrows his nose into her hair, inhaling her scent and looking over her for any marks. When he realises she is back, safe and sound and warm and  _ untouched _ , his relief is palpable. 

 

‘Oh God, Oh God,’ he says, pressing kisses to her temple and neck and chest and wherever else his lips can reach. ‘Oh God, I’ve missed you so much.’

 

The next thing that happens is that Bazine Netal arrives on her clicking heels in a waft of expensive perfume and high expectations.

 

Rey isn’t an idiot. When Bazine sits with them at the table by the pool, she knows that this woman is here to fuck Ben. Rey has spent all day working on the Falcon. She is dirty, sweaty and her hands are calloused. By comparison, Bazine is cool, beautiful and looks at Ben with carnal recognition. Rey feels sick, biting her lip and looking at Ben. Did he send for Bazine? Is this some gross punishment for her having seen Poe? Or has he tired of her and their sexless existence at long last? 

 

It is as though Rey finally recognises that the house of cards she and Ben have built together must finally fall to the ground. In that moment, staring at Ben, making awkward small talk with Bazine, Rey finally gets it. 

 

There is no future here for her with Ben. She can stay here with him and be the light to brighten his darkness...  but that’s all she will ever be. 

 

She should want more for herself. She should want more for him.

 

She goes to the kitchen where the dam finally breaks and she cries. Ben follows her.

 

And then the third thing happens. Ben kisses her.

 

Rey doesn’t know how it happened, exactly. One moment she is crying by the sink. The next she is pounding her fists on the strong expanse of Ben’s chest, furious and heartbroken and so, so in love with this man. The next moment... the next moment Ben takes hold of her wrists, immobilising her, forcing her face to meet his. His eyes are dark and there is something new brewing in their depths. Something Rey has never seen before. And the next moment, before either of them can think the better of it, Ben’s mouth is on hers. 

 

There is nothing tentative or gentle about this kiss. It is aggressive, passionate and all-consuming, as if anything about this man could be otherwise. His hands grip to her tightly, and his tongue darts between her lips, claiming and marking and searching. And Rey... Rey surprises herself by responding immediately. She moans into Ben’s mouth, parting her lips to welcome him further, allowing him to taste her want and need for him. Only and always for him. His body is so hot against hers that Rey wonders how either of them can survive this fire, but he pulls her even closer, his fingers hard against her naked shoulders, bruising into her skin. And she lets herself be pulled, melting into him and his heat and still wanting more.

 

More. No, not more. Everything. She wants everything.

 

The more pliant and responsive Rey becomes in Ben’s arms, the less punishing his kiss becomes. He slows their pace, moving his hands from their iron-grip on her arms to cup at her face, pushing her back up against the countertop before lifting her legs to wrap around his waist. And the sudden feel of Ben, so hard and solid against the damp heat between her legs, Rey feels a small flare of panic.

 

‘But Bazine-’

 

‘Shh,’ Ben only whispers, his mouth still feathering her lips with hot kisses. ‘Don’t say anything. Don’t spoil it.’

 

And they kiss again.

 

The fourth thing happens the next day. 

 

The next day, after their fight and Bazine leaves and Rey has cried herself to sleep, her lips still bruised and swollen with Ben’s kisses.

 

The next day, Rey’s heat begins.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is basically smut. 
> 
> I apologise in advance to those who are here for the angst.
> 
> See you soon.x


	17. Burning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another beast. I’m so sorry.
> 
> Loss of virginity (consensual) follows. If this is a trigger, please do not read.
> 
> Almost there guys. We’re almost there.

**_Three years after Rey’s heat..._ **

 

It’s Finn who patches through the call.

 

Stuck under the wing of a GA200 Fatman, swearing at a surprisingly high-powered engine (a Lycoming 1O-540-K1A5), Rey blindly reaches for her radio and presses receive.

 

‘Rey?’ Finn’s voice, normally so smooth, is tinged with excitement. Rey sits up, wiping her hands on her overalls, brushing sweat from her forehead.

 

‘Finn? What is it? Is anything wrong with-’

 

‘No, no... everything’s fine, don’t worry. It’s nothing like that.’

 

‘Right, good,’ Rey puts down her clippers. ‘What’s up then?’

 

‘You got half an hour to spare?’

 

She looks at the Fatman. It’s a light, single flyer agricultural aircraft, used frequently in these barren parts. She promised Dean she would have it ready by tomorrow.

 

‘Not really,’ she replies. ‘Why?’

 

For a moment there is radio silence. Then she hears Finn conversing with someone in the background, probably Dave, who runs the control tower. Everyday Dave wears a uniform of a singlet top and sandals, and Rey has promised Finn that if he ever does likewise she will abandon him here in the bush land.

 

‘Look, Rey,’ Finn says, ‘We’ve had a landing request for a large aircraft that ran into mechanical difficulties on it’s PER-SYD flight. We’ve granted it, and it’s due in about twenty minutes.’

 

‘Qantas?’ Rey queries, immediately looking to the sky. ‘What’s the expected landing path? They’ll normally send for their own mechanics and-’

 

‘Not Qantas. It’s a private aircraft.’

 

‘Oh,’ Rey shrugs, even though Finn cannot see the movement. She grabs her bottle of water, taking a long drink. ‘You need me to take a look at it?’

 

‘Actually Rey, trust me, you’ll  _ want  _ to take a look at it.’

 

Rey stops, her interest piqued. She goes to her hangar door, looking out towards the runway and the control tower where Finn sits. The landscape here is brown and green and empty, with nothing but Australian farmland to be seen for miles.

 

‘Why?’

 

Again, Rey hears Finn chatting to Dave in the background. She hears Finn whistle appreciatively, ‘Are you sure about that? Holy shit, that’s amazing,’ before he clears his throat and speaks to her.

 

‘Rey, the aircraft requesting landing is a De Havilland Comet 4C. We’ve looked it up and it’s from the sixties. The fucking  _ sixties _ , Rey. Rey, no one flies planes like that anymore, let alone land them here in Takodana. This is the Australian bush, after all, and...’

 

Rey drops both her radio and her bottle of water.

 

She doesn’t hear the rest of Finn’s sentence. Despite the heat of the Australian summer, her blood turns to ice. She looks up again at the sky, which, previously blue and clear, now seems to be curdled with clouds.

 

Because Finn is right, no one flies a De Havilland Comet anymore.

 

No one. It’s an out-of-date aircraft, long-replaced by Boeing and Airbus.

 

No one flies a De Havilland Comet. It’s a plane that belongs in museums, not in the skies.

 

Rey swallows hard. Because no one flies a De Havilland Comet anymore... except...

 

She takes a deep breath. Except for the one person in the world who does.

 

**_The last night of Rey’s heat..._ **

 

He wakes her gently, shifting in their nest of blankets until he is on top of her, his forearms resting by her head. Her eyes flutter open, and she looks out the small, oval window to see a starry Utah night. 

 

When she feels the heat of his weight upon her, she opens her legs to welcome him, to pull him closer. Is this instinct or desire? It’s been four days, and she’s no longer sure. She doesn’t even care anymore. She’s long past the point of trying to decipher what this is between them. That it is them is all that matters. That it is  _ him. _

 

He kisses her, and she sense a change. His kisses have alternated from rough and hard to consuming and passionate, but this... this is different. This is soft and languid and gentle and  _ loving.  _

 

‘What is it?’ She manages to say, though her words are muffled by his mouth and tongue and the gentle bite of his teeth on her lips.

 

‘I just...’ he starts, still nibbling on her mouth. He kisses her again, long and slow, a seamless movement of his lips against hers, of his tongue pressing against hers, consuming the wet warmth of her mouth. She moans against him. 

 

He pulls away, only slightly. ‘I just want to do this when it isn’t about your heat,’ he confesses, ‘I want to do this with you because you want to. Not because you have to.’

 

He starts to kiss her again, but now she stops him. And the fact that she can stop him, after four days of being next to powerless in his presence, fills her with a bittersweet sadness.

 

‘It’s over, isn’t it?’ She asks him, and he nods.

 

‘Yes,’ he sighs. ‘Yes, it’s over.’

 

She takes his face between her hands, pressing kisses to his cheeks and forehead and lips. ‘Please...’ she starts, though her light kisses to his mouth turn deeper as he licks his tongue against hers. ‘Please...’ she tries again, though her words transform into a low moan as he ducks his head down to kiss her neck. 

 

‘Please what?’ He asks, though he is so hard against the inside of her thigh that it is a wonder he can talk at all. Rey herself is struggling. The words she wants to say are so clear in her head, but as his head travels lower still, capturing a nipple between his teeth and lightly biting it, they turn to dust in her mouth.

 

‘Please,’ she says one more time, pulling at his face so that he stops and looks at her intently. ‘Please... please know this. I didn’t do any of this because I  _ had  _ to.’ 

 

Neither of them have showered for days. They’ve hardly left the nest they have built in the cabin of the Falcon. There is more than a shadow of a beard growing on his skin, his lips are full and swollen, his eyes are dark and happy. His hair is mussed, and she pushes an errant strand behind his ear. He kisses her hand as it touches him, sucking a finger into his mouth and biting it. 

 

It is another mark on her skin from him. Proof that he has been here. Proof that they did this, together, and she welcomes every fresh wound. 

 

‘I did this because I wanted to. All of it,’ she tells him, trying to disguise the break in her voice. ‘I’ve wanted you since the moment we met.’

 

His eyes go black at her words. He strokes a hand down her face, tracking a solitary tear.

 

‘You... you just... you have no idea...’ he says, interspersing his words with kisses, hard and violent against her mouth. ‘You have no idea what you’ve done to me. Who you are to me.’

 

He’s so hard.. so, so hard... and as he pushes his length inside her, they both exhale sharply. It’s been days. The number of times they have done this is countless. Each time has been beautiful. Each time has been special. He’s made fucking an out-of-body experience for her.

 

But this time.

 

This time, when her heat has gone and it is just them. 

 

This time, when it isn’t just fucking but actually making love. 

 

This time it is a work of art. He writes music with their flesh and it becomes a symphony. He is a master stonemason carving a marble goddess from her body. He is a carpenter, smoothing wood into shining mahogany.

 

He is her, and she is him, and together they create something so special that Rey could weep for the joy of it.

 

He moves slowly, but there is no teasing. He kisses, but there is no consuming. They hold each other tight, and as Rey falls closer and closer to the darkness, her nails dig into his skin, just as his hands bruise into hers. 

 

When they come it is together, a shared shout, cries of joy followed by tears of sorrow.

 

Because they both know.

 

That this time- their first time- is actually their last.

 

And that tomorrow, which is really today, she has to go.

 

**_Two and a half years after Rey’s heat..._ **

 

Rey’s been living in Takodana, South Australia, for about a year when Dean proposes. They are five thousand feet in the air, and Rey is watching the patchwork quilt of brown and green fields below her when Dean sighs.

 

‘I hate flying you back every second Monday like this,’ he says, and she nods in mute agreement. They’ve been dating about six months, though secretly Rey hates calling it that. Can it be called dating when there is nowhere here to actually go on a date? They’ve never gone to a movie, or on a day trip, or even out for dinner, because there is simply nowhere to go. From the moment Dean first propositioned her they’ve followed the same routine. Every second Friday Dean flies into Takodana and picks her up, flying her out to his farm where they spend two days in bed, having sex and watching bad Australian television. That is, they do when Dean doesn’t have urgent business to attend to. As a farmer with fifty thousand acres of scrubland and one hundred thousand cattle to his name, Dean is a busy man. 

 

But he always tries to make time for Rey.

 

‘I can’t stay any longer,’ Rey tells him. ‘I have my own responsibilities, you know? My work and then there’s... well, Finn already has-’

 

‘Look,’ Dean interrupts her. ‘I love how grown-up you are. I love that you take your work and life seriously. You’ve been dealt a rough hand and you stepped up. But you and I- look, we could be great for each other. You could live on the farm with me. You’re the best pilot and mechanic for hundreds of miles... I could use your skills with the planes and machinery.’

 

Rey raises an eyebrow. ‘You want me for my engineering skills, hey?’

 

Dean grins. ‘Well, there’s the other side too. Women like you... in fact, women don’t come around these parts often. I’d like to get married, Rey.’

 

Rey takes a deep breath. Because sleeping with Dean is one thing. But to marry him would be something else altogether.

 

It’s not that she doesn’t like him. Of course she likes him. She likes spending time with him. She likes having sex with him. Of course, he’s a Beta, which is different, but also kind of nice. Rey feels safe and non-threatened around him. She can trust him. She can trust herself when he’s around. And he’s good to look at too. He’s big and blond and tanned in that Australian kind of way. He can spend hours in the sun without a hat or shirt and hardly burn at all. Whereas she and...  well, Rey is forever having sunscreen and new hats shipped up from Adelaide. She winces at the expenditure sometimes, though Finn only laughs. He looks at their monthly bills and sees Rey counting her dollars and cents, her brow furrowed.

 

‘Just contact Poe,’ he tells her easily. ‘Have him wire you some of your money. And it is  _ your  _ money, Rey.’

 

But Rey always shakes her head, her skin paling. 

 

‘You know why I can’t,’ she tells him pointedly. ‘If I contact Poe to sign over some of the funds then he’ll have to contact-’ and she pauses, because even after all this time, she can’t bring herself to say his name. ‘Look, in another three years this won’t be an issue. The money will be mine and then I can buy all the damned hats we need.’

 

And that’s another thing in itself. The money.

 

Dean’s heard the condensed version of Rey’s past. Her English background. The Americans who adopted her. He’s asked all the relevant questions, and respected her choice not to discuss certain issues. He has no idea that when Rey turns twenty-five, she will inherit millions. And why would he? Rey’s never mentioned it, and what sort of American heiress is actually an Englishwoman working as a mechanic in the Australian bush? 

 

‘You want me to marry you?’ Now she looks at him, completely stunned.

 

‘Yes,’ Dean says easily. ‘Marriage and then a few babies would be nice,’ he sees a brief, panicked look cross Rey’s face and immediately backpedals. ‘It would be your choice, Rey. It would always be your choice. And it wouldn’t affect- look, we could be a real family. A family, Rey. Just as you’ve always wanted.’

 

Rey nods. She can almost picture it. She could spend the rest of her days on Dean’s farm, far from the world. Far from London. Far from New York. 

 

Far from Utah.

 

She could fly planes above the beautiful Australian landscape. She could teach her children to fly. She could spend every evening for the rest of her life on the wraparound porch of Dean’s house, watching the sun paint the land pink and orange and red and brown. 

 

She’d have Dean build a pool so she could swim. She’d redecorate the living room, make it more friendly and inviting. She’d ask Finn to come every weekend. She could ship in better furniture from Adelaide, wine and chocolate from Sydney. Maybe twice a year she could convince Dean to holiday with her somewhere, to take a break from the farm. 

 

Although she doesn’t know where they would go. Here in Takodana they are in the part of Australia where green plains meet either the desert or the ocean. 

 

The desert or the ocean. Both of which remind her of-

 

Rey closes her eyes, pressing her head to the thin glass of the plane’s window.

 

‘I’ll think about it, Dean. I’ll think about it.’

 

**_The third day of Rey’s heat..._ **

 

They’re so busy fucking that they don’t talk about their fight.

 

They don’t talk about why they are here, in the cabin of the Falcon, rather than in a bed somewhere. 

 

They don’t talk about what he said. About how much it hurt.

 

They don’t talk about her plans to go. About how he begged her to stay.

 

They don’t talk at all that day.

 

They just fuck.

 

Over the past two days they’ve learned the intricacies of each other’s bodies. At first, he positioned her how he wanted her, normally on all fours in front, or pinned beneath him. But today he’s learned to let her ride him. He sees how she smiles when she is on top, her hips snapping up and down, watching pleasure cross his face. He’ll cup her breasts, marvelling at the smooth weight of them in his hands, thumbing her nipples and feeling her clench around him in response. She’s tight and wet and warm and it doesn’t take long for his knot to swell, to lock her to him. She’ll collapse on his chest, sated for the moment, and he’ll run his hand through her hair as they lie there. He’ll put his hand on the small of her back, feeling it rise and fall with each contented breath. And he knows that she has her ear to his heart, listening to it beat, a steady rhythm to match hers.

 

_ It beats for you,  _ he wants to tell her.

 

_ I breathe for these moments _ , she wants to tell him.

 

But they don’t talk that day.

 

They just fuck.

 

**_Two years after Rey’s heat..._ **

 

She’s been in Australia for six months, and if she thought Utah was hot, than she was wrong. Utah is not hot. Utah is pleasantly warm. At least it is, compared to this place.

 

The heat here is so sticky that Rey sweats constantly. And with her sweat comes the flies, who appear as if out of nowhere and plague her. She has a fan blowing in her hangar, where she repairs the airplanes, and a fridge full of cold water but it is never enough. She’s hot all the time. There is no respite from the heat, until she gets back to the little tin-roofed house she shares with Finn, and switches on the air-con. But even then she is still warm. Finn frets about the air-quality, muttering to Rey about lungs and development and recycled air, and goes around opening all the windows and letting the heat in. The hot air, and the flies. Occasionally, Rey wants to murder him. 

 

Today she’s sitting by the runway having a drink of water and waiting for the weekly mail plane to land. The heat is stifling, the sun strong, and the plane is late. 

 

Next to her, her radio buzzes. Finn.

 

‘Hey,’ she says, nodding to the tower. Ostensibly, Finn is a pilot here, taking tourists from Takodana on flying tours of the South Australian desert. But whenever there aren’t any tourists, he helps out in the control tower. Sometimes she thinks he prefers it. Well, why wouldn’t he. It’s air-conditioned.

 

‘What are you doing?’ Finn asks, his voice sharp.

 

‘Waiting for the mail plane,’ she replies, trying to keep the edge from her voice.

 

‘It isn’t scheduled for maintenance today,’ Finn remarks.

 

‘Oh?’ Rey feigns ignorance. ‘I thought it was.’

 

‘You’ll get heatstroke if you sit out there much longer. If you get heatstroke you’ll be no good to either of us.’

 

‘I’m not going to get heatstroke,’ she tells him.

 

‘Hmm,’ is all he says. Rey rolls her eyes and cuts transmission.

 

She doesn’t want to admit the truth. Not to Finn, not to herself. But today she is expecting a delivery, and she doesn’t... well, she doesn’t want anyone else to see it. Kev, the mail pilot, normally takes their deliveries straight to Finn in the tower, knowing that it is cooler there. Everyone in Takodana knows how Rey feels about chocolate, and Kev especially knows that if Rey’s expensive British chocolate were to melt while sitting in the plane waiting for delivery, there would be hell to pay.

 

But today Rey is going to intercept him before he gets anywhere near Finn. 

 

Fifteen minutes later Rey’s heart beats wildly in her chest when Kev hands over her packages. One of them, square and heavy in her hand, is definitely  _ it.  _ She turns to leave when Kev asks her to look at one of the fans in the mail plane, and Rey nods. She’s desperate to open her package, but knows that working on the mail plane justifies her waiting its arrival to Finn, who she knows is watching carefully from the tower.

 

An hour later she is alone- finally alone- in her hangar as she opens her parcel.

 

_ Redemption _ , by Kylo Ren, sits before her.

 

It is a glossy hardback, all black in colour but for a vague hint of grey on the border. It is a large book, and Rey flips to the back cover, feeling surprising anxious as she looks for the author photo.

 

And there he is.

 

She sits down, her legs suddenly unable to take her weight. Because he has changed so much, while not changing at all.

 

His hair is still dark, and his eyes... Rey almost smiles, because he is scowling at the camera, clearly annoyed by its presence. But his scowl does not compromise his good looks, and it still takes Rey’s breath away to see him again. 

 

In her mind she sees him everyday. In her heart she finds him more. But this... this is the only photo she has seen of him since the day she left. Since the day her heat ended, and he took her to SLC for her flight to New York.

 

If she closes her eyes, she can still feel that last lingering kiss he gave her. On her mouth, just a gentle press of his lips against hers. A sad kiss. A loving kiss.

 

A goodbye kiss.

 

Rey blinks away tears, opening the book and looking for the dedication. She still remembers his dedication to Alexandra, and perhaps if there is something here for her, she might... 

 

She breathes deeply. Well, she might finally go home.

 

But after the title page there is nothing. Just pages and pages of text. 

 

And Rey feels a pang of bitterness. Because for a moment, she’d allowed herself to forget.

 

‘You’re nothing, you’re no one,’ she reminds herself.

 

And so she closes the book.

 

**_The second day of Rey’s heat..._ **

 

She’d never imagined it could be like this.

 

The way he wants her. The way he holds her. The way he fucks her. 

 

It’s so beautiful, all of it. 

 

On her first year at Plutt’s she’d been given an ancient looking textbook, circa 1932, called ‘An Omega and her Estrous Cycle.’ It was mostly out-of-date nonsense, detailing what an Omega could expect from her first heat. One particularly uninteresting chapter compared the human Omega to the female rat, which irked Rey at the time, and still, when she recalled it, irked her now.

 

But one phrase stood out.

 

_ The human omega, mid-heat, will cling to her Alpha. And the Alpha, though he is biologically designed to protect his Omega, may protest. Just as the Omega’s biology will compel her to hold onto her chosen mate, the Alpha’s biology will compel him to spread his seed. _

 

_ If, mid-heat, the Alpha chooses to abandon his mate for another, the Omega should let him go. Once he has completed his biological mission, he will return to the Omega. Many Alphas have been known to service up to four Omegas in heat at a time. _

 

He has a hold of her hair as he thrusts into her from behind, his other hand circling her clit in soft circles so that her mind is dizzy and she can hardly breathe. She cannot think of anything but this pleasure, and she thrusts back against him, until he is panting tightly, so close to ecstasy. Her shoulders are already covered in bite marks, and as he comes he adds another, just below her shoulder blade. She kneels up, wrapping a hand around his neck, holding him to her, giving him better access to her skin.

 

They lie for five minutes, knotted together. He absently runs a hand up and down her hip, tickling the flesh so that she shivers.

 

‘You can go, you know,’ she offers, when her body, sated and still so full of him, means that she can think clearly for a minute.

 

‘Go?’ He asks lazily, ‘Where would I go?’

 

‘I don’t know,’ she says honestly. ‘I guess to another woman, if you want to-’

 

Now he sits up, looking at her hard. ‘Rey. What the fuck?’

 

She flushes. He’s looking at her so intently, and this conversation is so hard, while he is still hard and coming in spurts inside of her.

 

‘I... I read this book, at Plutt’s... apparently the Alpha might abandon his Omega mid-heat and-’

 

He stops her with a kiss. He wraps his arms, so large next to her, around her body further, feathering the broken skin on her shoulders with even more kisses.

 

‘You’ve ruined me for anyone else,’ he whispers into her ear. ‘Don’t you know that by now? There can never be anyone else.’

 

The sun is setting outside, colouring the stark walls of the Falcon a pretty shade of orange, when he pulls her into his lap and pushes into her again. It’s different this time, which surprises her. He directs her to move, whispering encouragement into her ear, teaching her how to please him. Teaching her how to please herself.

 

As she moves he suckles on one of her breasts while squeezing the other, and Rey’s voice nearly breaks when she comes above him. When she collapses onto his shoulder she cries, and they are violent tears of pleasure.

 

‘Is it always like this?’ She asks him desperately, still out-of-breath, still holding him within her.

 

‘No,’ he says, and his words drip with honesty. ‘It’s never like this. This... this is just  _ us, _ Rey. This is only ever going to be us. It was only ever going to be us.’

 

And Rey kisses him, the way he likes, the way he deserves. 

 

The ways this man loves her are many and varied. The way she loves him is with her whole heart and soul.

 

**_A year and a half after Rey’s heat..._ **

 

It’s Finn’s idea, this move to Australia. 

 

‘I’m tired of London,’ he tells her one day, looking out at the Thames, at a grey river under an expanse of grey sky. ‘Besides,’ he adds, ‘All this grey can’t be good for us. We need some sunshine. Some vitamin D.’

 

‘We had three solid months of sunshine over the summer,’ Rey reminds him. She’s doing her monthly accounts, frowning at the rent figure. They live in one of the less expensive pockets of South-East London, and still, the rent is phenomenal. Once again she thanks God for sending her Finn. Finn, who might be a messy roommate, but is always good for his half of the bills and rent.

 

‘I want a year of solid sunshine,’ Finn tells her, and something in his voice makes Rey look up.

 

‘What are you saying?’ She asks him. ‘What’s going on?’

 

‘Rose and I-’ Finn falters. ‘Rose and I broke up.’

 

‘Ah,’ Rey sits back. She opens her arms to Finn. ‘Come here,’ she says, and Finn falls into her.

 

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ She asks. And Finn nods his head, opening his heart to her.

 

It’s the usual story. Rose, pretty, sunny Rose, who has been Finn’s girlfriend for the past two years, wants more of a commitment. Rose can’t understand why he needs to live with Rey. Rose is Finn’s Omega, not Rey, so why doesn’t he want to live with her? And then, Finn confesses, Rose’s worries went deeper. Rey must be going to have another heat soon, Rose told him. It’s been nine months since- and well, she must be due a heat. Is that why Finn insists on living with Rey and- is he in love with her? Is he going to help her through her heat? Has he already?

 

Rey listens and nods. When Finn is finished, she gives him another hug. ‘Finn,’ she says. ‘I think you need to ask yourself not why you are living with me, but why you aren’t living with Rose?’

 

Because it’s true. When Finn and Rey became friends, he was already dating Rose. And although at first their shared living arrangements were for convenience more than friendship, it soon became apparent that Rey fulfilled something in Finn’s life that was missing. Something that Rose, try as she might, could never fill.

 

‘Rose isn’t the one,’ Finn tells her sadly. Rey knows that Finn is a romantic at heart. He will never settle for less than true love. And he liked Rose... he really liked her. He just couldn’t love her.

 

Rey takes a deep breath, looking around their sparsely furnished flat with its ancient plumbing. Poe keeps emailing her, suggesting she make an application to her trust for money. Or, he once said, he could loan her the money. He knows she’d good for it in a few years. 

 

But Rey’s reply is always the same. 

 

‘We’re fine,’ she tells him. ‘We’re doing fine. I told you from the start, you don’t need to do anything. You don’t need to feel guilty,’ and then, less emotionally, ‘Please don’t tell him where I am.’

 

‘Rey,’ the reply she gets is oddly hurtful. ‘He already knows where you are. He’s always known where you went.’

 

He’s always known, she thinks, feeling a deep swell of hurt.

 

She looks at Finn now and wonders if they are doing as well as she believes.

 

‘Maybe some sunshine would be nice,’ she agrees. ‘Somewhere, I don’t know, away from it all. Away from everyone. But where can we go?’

 

And Finn grins. 

 

**_The first day of Rey’s heat..._ **

 

After that first, messy coupling they end up in the Falcon. 

 

They are kissing aggressively as they board the aircraft, and though he is the Alpha, Rey subconsciously leads the way. When she stops, he pulls away from her long enough to gaze at the cabin. 

 

‘Rey...’ he breathes. ‘Rey, what did you do?’

 

For in the cabin, where she has been working these past few weeks, there is a mess of blankets and sheets. They are arranged in a haphazard circle, and Rey is surprised to find that they smell like her. But it is a richer smell, potent and intriguing. Enticing, Rey thinks. It is meant to be enticing.

 

‘How long have you been nesting for?’ He turns to her, and she shakes her head, because in all honesty she doesn’t even know. 

 

‘I... I...’ is all she can say, but he doesn’t let her finish her sentence. With one quick swipe of his arms she is against him and then lowered to the floor. Her clothes... her clothes are practically torn from her body and then he is licking her. He licks her from her feet, up her legs and briefly over her cunt, so that she spasms beneath him. But he doesn’t stop. He keeps licking and sucking, going over her hips to the soft expanse of her stomach, and then onto her breasts, taking a minute to suckle on each so that she squirms desperately beneath him. He carries on up to her neck, taking the time to bite on each of her glands. 

 

The glands that have been aching for days, though Rey hadn’t stopped to wonder why.

 

And suddenly she knows. He is scenting her. Marking her and scenting her so that no other Alpha dares to come near her. He’s already fucked her once, but clearly even that is not enough. Not enough for him. Clearly he’s still worried that another Alpha may yet come and spirit her away. Although they both know that the only other Alpha who dare to that at the moment is- 

 

Rey moans, her trail of thought cut off as he moves from her neck to her mouth, pushing his tongue into her mouth just as he slides his cock into her body. She can hardly move for the weight of him. A reassuring weight that she welcomes and wants more of. She can’t imagine, at this point, letting another Alpha anywhere near her. In fact, the thought makes her feel physically ill. She has been claimed, and as her Omega biology takes over, she surrenders to her claimant.

 

Her phone, she thinks briefly, her last salient thought before she gives over entirely to the pleasure he is wracking her body. Something about her phone. 

 

Who was she calling? And why was it important?

 

**_A year after Rey’s heat..._ **

 

She works up the courage to leave her flat and visit the Jakku Housing Estate. Surprisingly, the building she lived in with her parents is gone, long replaced by sleek new housing filled with young professionals, anxious to be close to both the city and a good tube line. Still, Rey wonders around her old neighbourhood, basking in memories both pleasant and unpleasant.

 

Recently, she’s been wondering more about her birth mother. Given all that she’s been through, it’s not really all that surprising. So she visits social services and makes some queries through various agencies.

 

The answers are, in their way, reassuring. Her mother, one kindly social worker informs her, was a young Omega. Her father was a Beta, though his name was never on her birth certificate, so they cannot know for certain whether he was even really her father. Normally only an Alpha can breed another Alpha or Omega, not a Beta, so...

 

‘He doesn’t matter,’ Rey says, rearranging the strap on her shoulder, ‘I don’t care about him. Tell me about her.’

 

Her mother was an addict. Drugs and alcohol. Her father, convinced someone would steal away his precious Omega, responded with violence to any ‘transgression’ he thought her mother had made. He killed her, the report states, for apparently flirting with a young Alpha salesman who came to the door one evening.

 

Rey nods. She is given a picture of her mother which she tucks into her bag, and then thanks the social worker. 

 

Her father, she is told on the way out, is still in prison. Would she care to visit him? 

 

Rey shudders. ‘No,’ she says blankly. 

 

As Rey wanders around Jakku, breathing in crisp London air and stopping in a park for coffee, she thinks Ben would be proud.

 

She’s doing just as he told her to. Growing up. Letting go. Closing doors on her past. 

 

Killing it, if she has to.

 

**_The first morning of Rey’s heat..._ **

 

When Rey wakes, her glands are so irritated and itchy she could happily scratch them from her skin. Her skin is hot and she feels sick. Sick and dizzy and so shaky she doesn’t even know if she can walk. She tries, falling from her bed and then picking herself up from the floor.

 

She stumbles through the hall, going to the room Bazine slept in, desperately looking for Ben. But fuck, he isn’t there, and neither is Bazine and-

 

Rey stumbles into Ben’s room, where he lies asleep in his bed. He’s alone, thank God and-

 

‘Ben,’ she says. ‘Ben, please wake up... there’s something wrong with me, and...’

 

His eyes open in a flash and he’s by her side in a heartbeat.

 

‘Rey? Rey? What’s wrong, are you sick? Should I call...’

 

And then he stops. He stops and drinks her in.

 

‘You aren’t sick, Rey,’ he says slowly. He lifts her head with his hands, inhaling deeply. ‘Rey, you aren’t sick. You’re in heat.’

 

The words sink like a stone in Rey’s stomach. It takes her a moment to scramble away from him, pushing back and snarling as he reaches for her. His eyes are dark and blown wide with sudden lust.

 

‘Stay away from me,’ she says sharply, rushing from his room. ‘Just stay away, Ben.’

 

She runs back to her room, thinking to lock the door behind her. But there’s no lock, damn him, and so she gathers up her phone and runs from the house. 

 

She heads down to the hangar. The hangar, where she is always safe. The Falcon is there, and she sinks next to the maintenance steps, her fingers shaking as she taps a number into her phone.

 

‘Hello?’ A cranky voice says, and Rey starts to talk frantically, her voice rushed, her whole body convulsing.

 

‘Rey? Rey Solo? Is that you?’

 

‘Maz... Maz... please help me...’ Rey begins, explaining again.

 

‘Yes, you’re probably in heat... Rey, don’t panic, please stop crying... Rey... Rey... when did you last see me?’ Rey hears Maz rustling through papers. ‘Nearly six months ago? Yes, the effects of both jabs will have worn off by now... Rey... Rey... please stop crying... Rey, I can’t help you if you are crying... Rey... Rey...’

 

‘Rey.’

 

Another voice cuts in, and Rey looks up. Ben stands in the doorway of the hangar. The sun shines lightly against his back. He’s dressed only in his sweatpants, and he’s looking at her... he’s looking at her like she is a dangerous thing. Like she might bite if he gets too close. She probably will.

 

‘Calling Dameron, are we?’ Ben says coldly, indicating to the phone in her hands. She drops it instantly.

 

‘No,’ she says quietly. 

 

Strange. Now that she is in the hangar, near the Falcon, she feels oddly calm. Her body is on fire, her glands aching, but her mind... her mind is clear.

 

For a moment Ben and Rey stare at one another. They stare and drink their fill of the other, and the air... how can the air be so heavy with lust and desire and fear and excitement all at once? The silence is pressing. So pressing that Rey suddenly cannot bear it. ‘Ben,’ she says, raising an arm, making a quiet entreaty and... and that is all it takes.

 

It’s over in a moment. He has her pressed upon against the maintenance stairs, pushing up her nightdress while pulling his sweatpants down. In one quick, fluid motion he is inside her, and they both exhale as he slides himself in her to the hilt.

 

‘There,’ Ben sighs. And it is a satisfied sigh. A relieved sigh. A happy sigh. ‘There. It’s done.’

 

And Rey reaches up to wrap her arms around him as he begins to move within her, slowly and gently.

 

‘I’m glad,’ she whispers. ‘I’m so glad it’s you.’

 

‘It’s always,’ Ben closes his eyes as pleasure engulfs them both. ‘It’s always been you.’

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you really think I would let her have her heat with Poe?
> 
> Really?
> 
> Anyway... one more chapter to go! 
> 
> I’m on Tumblr these days as @minkel23
> 
> No, I’m not sure how Tumblr works really either.


	18. Going Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I have really struggled over this chapter. 
> 
> I originally envisioned ending this as TLJ ended, with Rey closing the door on Kylo Ren, while still certain in the knowledge that Ben Solo would come home to her.
> 
> But I couldn’t do it. So I’ve ended it in a more hopeful fashion. 
> 
> There is an epilogue written from Ben’s POV, the first part of which I have added to the end of this chapter. 
> 
> If you would like me to post it (it’s around three chapters with the HEA) just let me know in the comments and I’ll get onto it. It’s mainly excerpts from Heatseeker, Cronus, Unmasked and Redemption, and covers things like Alexandra’s death and the story from Ben’s perspective. 
> 
> Otherwise, thank you so much for sticking with me on this angsty journey. I’ll update it after IX comes out with a canonical ending (crossing my fingers for more delicious Reylo moments).
> 
> As always, much thanks to the folks over at The Writing Den and Reylo fanfic group. 
> 
> House Crylo all the way!
> 
> Xx

She slips into the control tower just as Ben’s plane appears in the distant sky. Dave is in control of the radio, issuing instructions and coordinates, and Rey swallows hard when she hears Ben’s voice fill the room. It’s tinny and distant and broken by occasional static... but still, so unmistakably  _ him  _ that her heart jumps on hearing it. 

 

Briefly, perhaps unwisely, she remembers the last time they spoke. She can still feel Ben’s cheek against her own, feel his breath, so warm and soft, in her ear. She can hear his whispered promises and words of love. If she closes her eyes, she can almost imagine that he is next to her, that she can reach out and touch him. The hot expanse of his chest, the strong enclave of his arms, that fervent beating of his heart... 

 

Rey blinks, shaking herself from her stupor. She needs to keep it together. She needs to be strong. She’s tried so hard these three years not to think of those moments. She can’t let herself remember them now. Not now, when she’s worked so hard to follow his harsh instructions.

 

Grow up. Forget the past. Those have been easy. Life has necessitated that she grow up. And who has time for the past when the present is so time-consuming, so utterly draining?

 

But the third instruction, to stop holding on.... well, that... that’s been harder for her. 

 

Rey’s held onto Ben’s necessary cruelty like a mantra, letting permeate her heart until it pushed all tender thoughts of him from her being. 

 

She’s held onto the knowledge that she was right, that they did need to separate. That she couldn’t have stayed, not in the way he wanted her to.

 

She’s held tight onto those thoughts, drawing upon them to strengthen her resolve, to kill her doubts that the last three years- that three years without him- might all have been for nothing.

 

Because Rey has also held onto her hope. Her hope and utter faith in her belief that one day, Ben will come for her. That he will send her the sign she needs to return to him.

 

Is this it? Is Ben’s presence here the sign she has been waiting for? Rey isn’t sure. His arrival in Takodana is accidental, not deliberate. Rey has to remind herself that the Comet has some sort of mechanical problem; Ben would never have landed here if the plane hadn’t made it absolutely necessary. No, he isn’t here for her, Rey tells herself firmly. She can’t let her hope cloud her common sense. The only thing Ben wants right now, albeit inadvertently, are her mechanical skills. She needs to be professional about this. She needs to treat this situation like she would any other. Calculated and cool, keeping the potential for hurt at a comforting distance.

 

When the comet touches down on the tarmac, Finn and Dave give a small cheer, before Finn turns to Rey, clearly hoping to share a hearty grin. But his smile drops quickly when he sees the hard lines of her face, the blank indifference of her eyes.

 

‘Textbook landing,’ he reassures her, ‘You don’t have to worry now.’

 

Rey nods. 

 

‘Come on,’ Finn tells her, ‘let’s go down and take a look at this bird once she’s parked. You can chat to the pilot too, find out what the issue is.’

 

But Rey shakes her head. ‘No,’ she says slowly. ‘You go. I’ll stay here.’

 

The look Finn gives her is full of both shock and skepticism. ‘Rey,’ he intones, ‘what are you talking about? You love De Havilland planes. All I’ve heard for three years is about how you love De Havilland planes. You even named your...’ he stops at the unwavering seriousness of Rey’s face. ‘You aren’t seriously telling me you don’t want to see it? A 1968 De Havilland Comet?’

 

‘I’ll take a look later,’ Rey says. ‘I’m not in the mood right now.’

 

‘You’re not in the mood,’ Finn repeats. He lowers his eyebrows, rubbing his brow. ‘What aren’t you telling me, Rey-bear?’

 

‘Nothing,’ she waves her hand. ‘It’s nothing.’

 

Finn stares at her a moment, before shaking his head. ‘Something’s going on,’ he decides. ‘You’re being weird. This is a De Havilland, Rey. The only reason we even met was because we were both at that same air show to see that De Havilland Fox Moth fly. And this is a Comet, Rey- I can’t believe you aren’t already down at the runway, licking the thing. Remember when that new Learjet stopped here a year ago? You were practically ecstatic. I had to stop you from hugging the engine in front of the pilot. You should be all over this De Havilland, and instead you  _ aren’t in the mood _ ?’

 

‘Look, I’ll be all over it later, trust me,’ Rey says, trying in vain to push away an image of her and Ben, fucking all over the cabin of the Comet three and a half years ago. She feels momentarily dizzy, recalling that time he’d pushed her against the captain’s chair, opening her legs and feasting upon her pussy until she was half-deranged with pleasure. When he finally pulled her up, pushing her down over the control panel and thrusting into her wildly from behind, his teeth biting into her neck all the while, she’d come so hard she’d nearly blacked out.

 

Now Rey inhales sharply, chewing on a nail.  _ Forget the past _ , she tells herself sternly.  _ Grow up,  _ she thinks, clinging onto her fledgling adulthood like the most precious of vines.

 

‘I just don’t want to meet the pilot,’ she tells Finn, who still eyes her warily.

 

‘Why ever not?’ He asks. ‘He flies a De Havilland... I thought you’d have a thousand questions for him, I thought you’d be all over him. And you know, maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing. It’s been six months since you ended things with Dean. You’ve been moping around since then, and honestly Rey, with the way you’ve been snapping at me and- well, you could do with a good...’

 

‘Finn, please don’t finish that sentence, I beg of you,’ Rey pleads. ‘Look, you need to get on down to that plane. Meet the pilot and find out what’s going on for me, okay? If I need to order parts-’ she stops, because what is she thinking? Ordering parts for a De Havilland Comet in Takodana, Australia? That could take months. It could take years.

 

Years. With Ben. Here in Takodana.

 

She gapes at Finn helplessly, uncertain whether the rush of adrenaline she feels is terror, or excitement.

 

‘Look, just find out what the mechanical issue is, okay? I’m sure the pilot wants it sorted.’

 

Finn nods, but the look he gives her tells her that in his mind, this conversation is merely delayed and by no means over. It’s so different from the day they met again, at that air show, when Finn called out to her, recalling her from the Virgin lounge at Heathrow. He’d looked her up and down, nodding as though unsurprised, but happy not to ask any questions. The past is the past, he told her. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to intrude in her business, just as he respected her lack of intrusion into his. And clearly, with the way he latched onto her when he already had Rose- well, it was obvious there was more to Finn than the image he presented to the outside world.

 

Of course, that privacy all changed the day they moved in together. Despite Rose’s misgivings and Rey’s weak protests that she was fine, that she could do this alone, Finn insisted that their living together was of mutual benefit to both, and the best idea for everyone. One look at Rose’s wan face, and Rey almost asked Finn if he really thought this was the best idea for  _ everyone _ . Obviously it worked for her, and it must work for Finn, or he wouldn’t have suggested it, but for Rose-

 

Well, Rose was in the past now, as was any sort of true privacy between Rey and Finn. Over the past three years, Finn had developed a zero tolerance policy for lying and secret-keeping.

 

‘It sets a bad example,’ he stated firmly to Rey. ‘We need to be the grown-ups now.’

 

And Rey was fine with this, really. In fact, it gave her license to ask Finn the awkward questions no one else seemed to have ever broached with him. Like, that maybe it wasn’t just that Rose wasn’t  _ the one  _ for Finn that they didn’t work out. Maybe there was something else about  _ her _ . Maybe it was just that  _ she  _ wasn’t his type. And Finn, true to type, would listen to Rey and nod seriously. 

 

‘This is something I’ve already considered,’ he would reply. ‘Yes, there’s probably something to it. I just need time to work it out on my own, Rey-bear.’

 

And if Australia had given Finn and Rey anything, it was time to work their shit out.

 

But on one point Rey stayed firm. There was no need for Finn to know that Ben was- well, Finn knew there was history there, that Rey and Ben fell out and that Rey needed time away from him. 

 

‘Over-protective brother, got it,’ Finn smiled. ‘Yeah, I remember at Heathrow that he watched over you like a lion. His smell... it was intense, even for an Alpha. I can see why you needed to get away and stretch your wings.’

 

Stretch her wings. Figuratively and literally, Rey thinks, watching from the tower as Finn and Dave make their way over to the Comet, calling for the rather battered set of steps to be brought up to plane-level. She holds her breath as the steps are pushed into place, watching with a fast-beating heart as the door opens with delicate pressure, and Ben blinks in the bright Australian sunshine. 

 

Rey bites her lip. He’s there. It’s been nearly four years, and he’s just there. 

 

She doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

 

He looks good, because of course he does. But he must be feeling the warmth already, because he starts to pull off his sweater, pulling it over his head, revealing the briefest, most tantalising glimpse of his stomach before he adjusts his shirt, reaching out to shake Dave and Finn’s hands.

 

They start speaking, Ben indicating back to the plane, gesturing to one of the engines. Finn and Dave nod, Finn sneaking occasional glances up to the tower where he knows Rey watches. He makes a gesture to Rey which she knows to mean come on down, and for a moment she is tempted. 

 

Because this is Ben, and damn waiting for signs. Damn the fact that she is grease-stained and sweaty. Damn the fact that she wears an old pair of shorts and a faded shirt. Damn the fact that she promised herself not to do this.

 

Because this is Ben and this is her and this is them, just as they said it would be.

 

But before Rey can take even a single step two things happen. 

 

The first is that she can see Finn visibly stiffen. He must have gotten a wind of Ben’s scent, that Alpha scent which, being Finn, he will instantly recall from that day at Heathrow, and more than that... it is a scent which he will remember from his early days with Rey and- and God, now he’s looking at the tower in absolute horror and certainty, because he will have looked into Ben’s eyes and recognised-

 

And then, Rey feels her blood turn to ice, and a heavy sickness settle in her stomach. Because a woman appears in the plane door, also blinking in the sunshine, and Ben reaches up to take her hand and help her down to the tarmac, and when she gets to the bottom...

 

Rey nods, tears blurring her eyes. Because when the woman gets to the bottom, she doesn’t release Ben’s hand. 

 

In fact, she tightens her hold on it further.

 

***

 

When Finn returns to the tower, he finds Rey curled in a ball by the radar. His face, so furious when he first walks in, softens immediately, and he sinks down to her side, pulling her to his side.

 

‘Oh, Rey-bear,’ he murmurs. ‘Poor Rey-bear.’

 

For the next half-hour, Finn lets Rey cry into his shirt, until the collar is soaked. When her tears subside into dry, occasional sobs, he looks into her eyes.

 

‘That’s your brother,’ he states, matter-of-fact. 

 

And all Rey can do is nod into his shoulder, because there is no use denying anything now.

 

‘And he’s...?’ Finn pauses, unwilling to say what he already knows to be true.

 

‘Yes.’

 

‘Okay,’ Finn exhales. ‘Okay, this is fine. This is fine, Rey. Look, I’ve taken a look at the plane. It looks like an issue with one of the engine fan blades. It will need replacing, but with your skills, you could get her air-worthy enough to get him back to... where was it, Arizona?’

 

‘Utah,’ Rey replies, her voice choked.

 

‘Okay. So you fix the plane, you get him out of here. You can do that, can’t you Rey-bear?’

 

And Rey nods, because of course she can. She can fix anything. 

 

Anything but Ben, that is.

 

‘Okay, so this is fine,’ Finn repeats, even though Rey knows he is talking only to himself now. ‘This is fine. He doesn’t need to know. I’ll get Dave to drive him to a hotel. Miles from here. Adelaide, if we have to. You fix the plane. He leaves. He doesn’t need to know.’

 

‘What do you mean?’ Rey asks. ‘That he doesn’t need to know?’

 

Finn looks at her like she has gone crazy. ‘You know what I mean,’ he breathes. 

 

‘Finn,’ Rey says, her voice breaking again. ‘Of course he  _ knows.’ _

 

Finn stops. ‘He knows?’

 

‘Yes.’

 

‘He knows?’ Finn says again, his voice raising an octave.

 

‘Yes. Of course he knows. Do you honestly think I’m the kind of woman not to tell a man when... yes, he knows.’

 

Finn stares at Rey, his shoulder stiffening beneath her.

 

‘Rey,’ he says, and now his voice is firm. ‘Rey-bear, I’ve never asked you. In all these years, I’ve never asked you. Here’s a kid who needs a friend, I always thought. Don’t push her away. Don’t pressure her. But Rey, I think now, you need to tell me.’

 

Rey takes a shaky, shuddering breath. It’s like a sputtering of an engine, about to take-off for the skies.

 

‘What do you want to know?’

 

‘I think first you need to tell me what the fuck went on between you and your... your brother?’ Finn pauses. ‘I hate saying that. I hate calling him that.’

 

‘I’m not too fond of the term either, trust me.’

 

Finn nearly smiles. Nearly. He squeezes Rey’s hand.

 

‘I also think you need to tell me why you’re still running away from him. Even now, when you have his daughter, Rey-bear.’

 

And Rey closes her eyes. 

 

Because Finn is right. It’s time to tell the truth.

 

***

 

**_Three and a half years earlier, the night before Rey’s heat_ **

 

And they kiss again.

 

Her lips are still swollen from his earlier kiss, that first stolen press of his lips against hers, while her legs remain wrapped around his waist. He is warm, so warm, just as warm as the heat of the Utah desert that steals in through the open kitchen door. 

 

Outside, an immaculately beautiful woman drinks cool wine from a crystal glass, waiting for her lover to return.

 

But he won’t return, Rey thinks. Not now, not when he is here, and with her in the way they were always meant to be. He presses her closer to his body, pulling her lips back to his, running a hand down her face and staring at her with astonished adoration, as though he can’t quite believe he gets to touch her, to kiss her, to feel her body next to his. 

 

His tongue slips into her mouth, sliding against hers, and she moans. The sound seems to spur him on, because his kiss, so gentle and careful, turns into something harder. Something more consuming. Something far more dangerous.

 

His fingers deepen into her skin, and she knows her arm will bruise. Her nails run down his back and she knows that he is marked.

 

As if he could ever be anyone else’s. As if she could ever belong to another. 

 

She begins to return his kiss, meeting him in his passion, pulling his hand from her hip and up to her breast, groaning into his mouth when he tentatively squeezes and then runs a thumb over her hardened nipple.

 

‘Do that again,’ she pleads, but her words, rather than encouraging him, make him stop. He pulls away from her with a wrench, as though she burns his skin.

 

‘Fuck,’ he whispers. ‘Fuck, Rey, you know we can’t do this.’

 

She presses her lips together, reaching for him. ‘Ben... of course we can... Ben, it’s us and-’

 

‘And things,’ Ben interrupts, pulling away from her entirely. ‘And things haven’t changed.’

 

‘You kissed me,’ Rey says blankly.

 

‘Yes,’ Ben runs a hand through his hair. ‘Yes, I know, and I’m sorry- it was just, you were upset and crying and I just... I just...’

 

‘Kissed me,’ Rey repeats.

 

‘Yes,’ Ben admits. ‘Yes, I kissed you.’

 

‘Did you want to kiss me?’ Rey asks, her voice small. ‘Or was it just by default?’

 

‘Rey...’ Ben begins, but she stops him.

 

‘No, don’t tell me,’ she snaps. ‘I should’ve known. After all, the only way you know how to deal with women is to fuck them, right? Why should I be any different?’

 

He blanches at her words. At her anger.

 

‘You  _ are _ different,’ he tells her. ‘And I wanted to kiss you. I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time.’

 

But Rey shakes her head. ‘I’m the one you want to kiss,’ she says sadly. ‘But I’m not the one you’re going to fuck tonight, right?’

 

She glances to the door. To the door, through which Bazine sits, waiting for her lover to return. And he will. He always will.

 

Rey ducks her head, tears stinging her eyes. She knows now. She’s always known. 

 

‘I have to go, Ben,’ she says.

 

At this, he catches her wrist.

 

‘Go?’ He asks, panic in his voice. ‘Go where?’

 

‘Just go,’ she tells him, looking at his fingers on her skin, holding her arm tight, leaving a mark.

 

As if she could ever belong to anyone else.

 

‘Go where?’ He asks again, his voice a dangerous growl.

 

‘Away,’ she says miserably. ‘Away from you.’

 

‘No, Rey, look-’

 

‘No, Ben, you look,’ Rey speaks firmly. ‘You and I... what we’ve been doing... it’s not good for us. Everyday I wake and think of you. I can’t stand being away from you, Ben. And you... you’re the same. You’re always touching me and marking me and half the time you probably don’t even know that you’re doing it. You’re haunting me, Ben. You’re a living ghost of the man you could be and you’re haunting me,’ at this, her voice cracks.

 

He stares at her. He stares at her, and in his eyes she can see  _ him _ , the Ben she wants, the Ben she knows he could be if he would only just let himself. She closes her eyes.

 

‘The last few months, I’ve been pretending not to see it, Ben. I’ve been telling myself that we could keep being what we are, rather than what we should be. I’ve been pretending not to search for the Ben I know you could be within this monster you’ve created. I want more than the monster, Ben. I want more than what you offer me. I want to sleep at night and not dream of the man I know you could be. I want to wake in the morning and feel you next to me, warm and real and there, rather than just the cold shadow of where you should be. I want to spend my days knowing that everything you are and should be is there to be shared with me. I don’t want what we have anymore.’

 

‘What we have?’ Ben asks. ‘What we have is perfect... I’ve never been this happy... this content... what we have-’

 

‘What we have is unnatural,’ Rey tells him. ‘I’m in love with you, Ben,’ she adds, and now... now the tears begin to flow. He reaches for her, but she pushes him away. If he touches her, she knows she will never say what needs to come out. ‘I’m in love with you. And if I stay with you, on your terms, as your love but not your lover, as your sister but not your sibling... I’ll never get away. I’ll let you consume me until I’m nothing more but another prop to keep you from falling totally into the abyss. Alexandra pushed you over the edge, I know she did, and I’m sorry for you, truly I am. But I’m not going to be the ladder with which you cling to the precipice. You need to climb out of this darkness on your own.’

 

Ben is looking at her with utter coldness in his eyes. 

 

‘You honestly think love will drag me from this? That love will obliterate all Alex did? All that  _ I  _ did? You’re such a child, Rey. I forget what a child you are.’

 

He shakes his head at her and for a minute, she hates him. She hates him and she loves him all at once and she is practically shaking with anger and hurt.

 

‘You think love will fix everything? Will fix me? Fix you? Grow up, Rey. In the best possible way, grow up.’

 

‘I will,’ she says, and now her voice matches his. Icy, controlled and hurtful. ‘But not here. Not where you can hurt me. Away from here. Away from you.’

 

Ben regards her furiously. ‘If you leave,’ he says, and there is a stark finality to his words. ‘If you leave, don’t come back. Forget me. Grow up. Forget the past. Stop holding on. People have walked away from me my whole life. If you do it too, I don’t want you back.’

 

It’s like a slap to her face. But she doesn’t turn away. Rey is a child born of pain. Rey is a girl born of loneliness. And tonight she is a woman, born of love.

 

And so she reaches out to Ben, taking his palm, running it over her cheek, letting him feel the tears he has pulled from her.

 

‘Ben,’ she whispers, ‘you’ll always want me back. But I won’t come unless you’re ready. And when you are...’

 

She pauses.

 

‘What then?’ He asks. 

 

‘I’ll meet you on the edge,’ she cries into his palm. ‘I’ll wait for you in the light.’

 

***

 

It’s late in the evening when Rey sneaks up to the Comet. Finn has agreed to put her daughter to bed, and assures Rey that Ben and his girlfriend are checked into a hotel four towns over. 

 

‘Dave took them,’ he tells her. ‘The plane is clear until tomorrow morning. Get to work. Do what you can. If you really don’t want to see him, get that thing fixed quick.’

 

She agrees entirely. So much so that she doesn’t stop to admire the plane as she manually opens the door, even though she desperately wants to. She doesn’t let her hand linger on the framework. She doesn’t stop to see what Ben has done with the paintwork. She just needs to get the flight log and maintenance record from the cockpit, and then she’ll get to the engine in need of repair. 

 

Fix the plane. Get him out of here. It should be easy.

 

But when she turns right towards the cockpit, she hears an exclamation from behind her. Whirling around, Rey comes face to face with Ben’s girlfriend, who looks at Rey with shocked surprise.

 

‘Who are you?’ The woman asks, as though Rey is the interloper. 

 

‘I’m...’ Rey pauses. She can’t give her name. That would be the quickest way for Ben to find her. ‘I’m one of the mechanics. I was told to take a look at your number three engine.’

 

The woman visibly relaxes.

 

‘Oh,’ she laughs. ‘Oh, that’s fine then. Wow, you scared me for a minute. Do you guys always work so late?’

 

Rey smiles. ‘I’m sorry. I was told you were at your hotel for the night. And yes, we often work late. It’s cooler in the evening, you see.’

 

‘You aren’t Australian,’ the woman frowns. ‘You don’t sound like them, anyway.’

 

‘British,’ Rey says, unwillingly. She swallows hard. ‘Is your... your husband here? The pilot?’

 

The woman shakes her head. ‘No, he’s at the hotel. I left my phone onboard so decided to come back for it. I’ll probably sleep in the cabin bed tonight,’ she shrugs. ‘My boyfriend isn’t a great sleeper. Oh, I’m Jessika by the way. Jessika Pava. I’m a pilot too.’

 

‘Jessika,’ Rey repeats, shaking the hand she offers. ‘Nice to meet you.’

 

‘You too.’

 

‘How long have you and your boyfriend been together?’ Rey asks.

 

‘Oh, not long. About six months.’

 

Six months. About the time she ended things with Dean then. The irony stings.

 

Rey stands there for a moment, feeling dull and awkward in her work clothes. Jessika, by comparison, looks fresh and clean and pretty in a sweet kind of way. She’s nothing at all like the usual betas Ben takes to his bed, Rey thinks. And then something strikes her.

 

‘You’re an omega,’ she nearly whispers, and a Jessika gives her an odd look.

 

‘So are you,’ she says. ‘What of it?’

 

Rey shakes her head. ‘Sorry, it was just... I caught your scent. I’m sorry.’

 

Jessika is Ben’s girlfriend, Rey thinks. Jessika is an Omega. This must mean... Rey swallows. This means that Ben is sleeping with Omegas again, Rey realises. 

 

She must stare at Jessika a moment too long, because she clears her throat. 

 

‘Do you want me to get you the maintenance log from the cockpit?’

 

‘Oh, yes. Yes, please,’ she replies. Jessika gives her another smile, before opening the cockpit door. She starts rummaging through a side panel when Rey spots it. A photograph she knows well, pinned to the side of the captain’s seat. Her mouth goes dry.

 

‘Here it is, with the flight log,’ Jessika announces, going to hand Rey a thick black folder. But Rey stands dumbly, staring at the photograph. Jessika sees her line of sight.

 

‘My boyfriend has a little girl,’ she explains. ‘Cute, isn’t she?’

 

‘Yes,’ Rey says, looking at the image of her daughter. Havilland is about five months old, giving a gummy smile. She has Ben’s dark hair and eyes. But the smile... the smile is all Rey.

 

‘She lives in London,’ Jessika explains. ‘Or at least, Ben thinks she does. The mom cut contact with him. He hasn’t heard from them for nearly two years.’

 

‘It’s nice he keeps her picture here,’ Rey says, through lips that are nearly numb.

 

‘That isn’t the only thing,’ Jessika remarks, leaning against the cockpit door.

 

‘What do you mean?’ Rey asks.

 

‘Didn’t you see the name of this bird?’ Jessika asks.

 

‘What? The Falcon?’

 

‘No,’ Jessika laughs. ‘It used to be the Falcon. But during the repair process so much of the plane needed replacing that Ben decided to rename her.’

 

Rey immediately turns and goes to the door. She looks out and over the paintwork, her eyes frantic until it lands on the script she has been searching for.

 

_ The Havilland Scavenger _

 

Rey’s eyes blur, until the name dances in a sea of tears before her.

 

Jessika stands behind her. ‘ _ Havilland  _ is obviously for his daughter, but the  _ Scavenger  _ part I’ve never understood. Ben says it’s just a name, but sometimes I wonder...’

 

Rey doesn’t answer. She simply grips the flight log in her hands, her heart beating happily.

 

It isn’t just a name. Rey knows this. 

 

No, it’s a sign.

 

***

 

She works all night. The fan blade does need replacing, but she manages to clean it and repair it enough that it will get the plane back to Utah. She even does some retiring that Jessika mentions. She replaces the flight log, pulling a more recent photo of Havi from her bag and stashing it inside the folder. The plane and its pilot needs a new photo of its namesake, she decides.

 

Not the plane, she reminds herself happily.  _ The Havilland Scavenger. _

 

She goes home to check on Havi, waking Finn to tell him what she has found. He springs into action.

 

‘Shower,’ he orders. ‘Put on that dress you bought from that market in Adelaide. Go to him like the princess you are, Rey-bear.’

 

‘Finn, are you sure this...’

 

‘Rey-bear,’ he sighs. ‘You love him.’

 

And so she goes. She drives back to the airport, ready to face him, looking her best. Once she and Ben have met again, she’ll bring him back to meet Havi. A moment she’s wanted so much these past few years. A moment she thought she might never see.

 

She parks her car, her heart beating madly. She smoothes out her dress, tries to tame her hair, before turning towards the runway, ready to see Ben and-

 

And the plane is gone. 

 

The plane is gone.

 

Dave sees her, staring numbly at the empty tarmac.

 

‘He left you a generous tip,’ he says. ‘Once he found out the plane was airworthy, he wanted to be away.’ He shrugs. ‘These rich city types. Can’t handle even a day in the bush.’

 

‘No,’ Rey replies. 

 

The plane has gone.

 

Ben has gone.

 

And with it, another piece of her heart.

 

***

 

**_Ben_ **

 

They’re cruising at 39,000 feet when he smells it.

 

A lingering scent, delicate in the air, the remnant of something wonderful and intoxicating.

 

He turns to Jessika.

 

‘Are you wearing a new perfume?’ He asks her.

 

She shakes her head. ‘No. Same old.’

 

He tries to brush the thought from his mind. He’s imagining things, clearly. Too many hours spent airborne, perhaps. It’s a fifteen hour flight from Sydney to LAX and they’ve another hour before he starts landing procedures. He just needs to get off  _ The Scavenger _ , get a lungful of fresh air.

 

He looks down at the flat white clouds below. ‘When we get to Mustafar, I’ll have one of the engineers take a look at that wiring problem. They should be able to fix it in a week or two.’

 

But Jessika yawns. ‘Actually, there’s no need. The mechanic fixed it already.’

 

‘What mechanic?’ Ben asks.

 

‘Oh, I didn’t tell you, did I? That night in that nowhere town in Australia, when the fan blade needed cleaning. The mechanic there did a quick fix of the wiring too.’

 

Ben pauses. ‘You mean a mechanic at an agricultural airport in South Australia re-wired a De Havilland Comet from 1968 in one night? While also cleaning and reinstalling an integrated engine fan blade?’

 

Jessika frowns. ‘Yes, I suppose that is strange, when you put it like that.’

 

‘It’s more than strange,’ Ben replies. If he ever let himself, there’s only one mechanic he can think of with skills like that. But he doesn’t let himself think of her. Not more than once a day, anyway.

 

‘Well, she was strange in general,’ Jessika remarks, and that gets Ben’s attention.

 

‘She?’ He asks, his mouth dry, hardly daring to hope.

 

‘Mmm,’ Jessika taps her fingers against the control panel. ‘Yes, she was... skittish, I guess. Talented mechanic though.’

 

‘I guess anyone who works in that sort of environment might be skittish,’ Ben says, fishing desperately. ‘Australia can be a hard land to live in, I’m told.’

 

‘Well, she was British,’ Jessika says, and then... then he  _ knows.  _

 

Rey was on this plane.

 

Rey was the mechanic in Australia.

 

He springs up, his coffee splattering all over the floor and Jessika. 

 

‘Ben, you just...’

 

But he doesn’t hear her complaints. Not when he digs out the flight log and maintenance book, searching frantically.

 

And there it is.

 

A maintenance entry, written in Rey’s appallingly awful handwriting.

 

And then underneath.

 

Underneath.

 

Underneath, and his heart expands in his chest.

 

Because its a picture of his daughter. Of Havilland Solo. 

 

She’s bigger now, a little girl, no longer a baby. Her hair is dark, her eyes darker, but her smile is wide and bright. She’s nearly three, he thinks. Three-years-old. She’s squinting under the Australian sun, sitting in the cockpit of an old airplane. She looks happy. She looks content. And why not. 

 

There are no demons chasing this little one at night.  She’s too young for regrets. Too young for heartbreak. He hopes to God she stays that way for as long as possible.

 

He misses her so much. He misses this girl he has never met. Just like he misses her mother. 

 

He holds the photo to his heart. It smells like Rey and hope and home all at once.

 

At the very bottom of the page, in the looping and imperfect script Rey uses, is a small note.

 

_ She’s a beautiful thing, Ben _

 

That’s all it takes. It’s all he needs. Just a sign. A small signal tell him that he’s waited long enough.

 

‘Turn the plane around, right now,’ Ben barks.

 

‘Ben, what on Earth...’

 

‘I said turn it around.’

 

‘Ben,’ Jessika sounds bored, not at all in the mood for one of his moments.

 

‘I mean it, Jess.’ He stops, his heart at that moment very much on his sleeve. ‘I’m going home. I’m going home, Jess.’

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again, guys. Your comments and kudos have meant the world to me. If you want me to post the epilogue, just let me know.xx


	19. Epilogue 1: Flicker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this just for fun. It’s the HEA (although that happens in chap. 21) I imagined for these characters. 
> 
> I’m still working on ‘The Sweetest Sign’ and am going to update that next, so won’t post the next part of this epilogue for a few weeks. 
> 
> So... mentions of abortion are below (brief and a discussion of the option, as opposed to anything graphic) as well as a scene where Ben decides to switch off life support for a character (again, nothing graphic). If any of this is triggering, please don’t read.

_ A slew of wires trail from her skin, hands turning from flesh into plastic tubing; they are like grotesque fingers, pale and pulsing, clinging to life.  _

 

_ Her skin is pale and almost translucent. If he looked carefully, he knows he would see the blue and purple veins he once mapped with his tongue, the faint freckles he once peppered with kisses. If he looked, he would find the scars under her wrists, the ones they never spoke of, the ones that kept him with her another year.  _

 

_ But he doesn’t look.  _

 

_ He sits by the door, his head in his hands, his foot tapping erratically. He doesn’t sit by her, like they thought he might. There is a chair by her bed for that purpose, a seat of honour, the centre-stage in this room of horrors. But he can’t bear to be near her.  _

 

_ The nurses give little, empathetic nods, because they think they understand. ‘Poor man’, they cluck, ‘he just can’t bear to see her like this’. They bring him cool coffee and rubbery sandwiches and dry cakes, satisfied by his dark eyes and clenched hands. ‘How much he must love her,’ they sigh amongst themselves. _

 

_ He says nothing to disabuse them of their kind notions. He doesn’t tell them that he doesn’t want to feel her skin next to his ever again. That he can’t bear the smell of her body. That when he sees her mouth, slack as it is and held open by machinery, all he hears are her words of cruelty, sharp and malicious. He remembers her voice as being like honey, sugar-sweet and syrupy, but he knows that every word she ever spoke was a trap. A sticky, cloying trap from which a witless fly like himself might never escape.  _

 

_ Until today. _

 

_ He takes a deep, ragged breath, looking at the clock above her bed. They’ll be here soon. Their text said they were on their way.  _

 

_ He pities them, because they think this visit will be like all the others. They think they are going to sit by her body and chat of nothing, while waiting for the doctor to tell them that there has been no change, and to come back again and let’s see what happens. Her mother will brush her hair and rub her legs and paint her toenails and her father will shake his hand and ask how things are. And he’ll tell them that things are fine, work is good, and that the house is coming along. None of them will talk about why they are here, about what happened. None of them will mention the past. None of them will talk about the drugs, or the actress, or any of the others. Why would they? They never have. They aren’t important. The only thing they are here for is her.  _

 

_ It is always about her. It’s always been about her. _

 

_ And then he will leave and scream for hours. He will go back to the home that isn’t even really a home, just a building where they keep their shit and fuck around, just bricks and cement and wood and furnishings, and he will destroy it, tearing at the scenery of their false existence until it is nothing but dust in his hands. _

 

_ But not today. Today will be different. _

 

_ Her parents arrive. Her mother is still beautiful, just an older version of his wife; a carbon copy, only slightly more lined. As he kisses her cheek- so similar to her daughter’s- he tries not to think of that time he fucked that omega while sucking on his wife’s lips. Her father looks more worn and tired, deflated by a life of work under the imperius rule of two headstrong women. He shakes his hand and asks about his work and then they talk about nothing while waiting for the doctor. _

 

_ Her mother brushes her hair and rubs her legs, telling her how beautiful she is, how loved she is, how she needs to wake up, and soon please, sweetheart. _

 

_ Sweetheart. He remembers another man using that phrase and he thinks he might be sick to hear it uttered here, above the body of this monster and- _

 

_ It is as he thought. When the doctor arrives, she patiently explains that there is no change. That they should come back again soon. That although it’s unlikely, maybe in a few months things will improve and then... _

 

_ But no. He stands, he says what he needs to say. ‘No more,’ he tells the room. ‘This stops today. The wires. The machines. The indecision. The purgatory. This can’t go on.’ _

 

_ They’ve discussed this before, of course. But in a dismissive fashion, as though it would never happen. Because she would wake up. Of course she would. She didn’t mean to do it, her mother explains, as though she were there, as though she could possibly know what vile thoughts ran through her daughter’s mind, what vile acts. It was obviously a mistake, her mother adds, followed by the usual refrain of: she’ll wake up soon. _

 

_ But it’s been eight months. Eight months of no brain activity, just a litany of machines keeping her alive and now... now it has to stop. He is tired of living half a life, married to a woman who is mostly dead. It was always going to come down to this, to him or her, he knows this now. One of them was always going to have to die to set the other free. _

 

_ And he wants to live. God, does he want to live. _

 

_ Three pairs of eyes watch him as he details what should happen next. The doctor nods, understanding. Her father cries quietly. But her mother... her mother rails against him, sharp nails digging into his shoulder as she claws at him, her husband holding her back from doing further damage. He has never seen such grief. But he has seen this anger, and her vitriol. He has seen this temper before, recalling it as though from a nightmare. She is her mother, after all. And her daughter was a poisoned apple, not falling too far from her rotten tree. _

 

_ ‘If you do this, I will never forgive you,’ she screams, as she is pulled from the room. _

 

_ But he is her husband, and it is his decision. He reads through the paperwork. He signs the forms. _

 

_ ‘Will you stay for it?’ The doctor asks. ‘It won’t be for a few days, her parents will appeal, but...’ _

 

_ He thinks the doctor must know.  _

 

_ ‘No. Call me when she... call me when it is done.’ _

 

_ He turns for the last time to her body, still prone, eyes closed in a peaceful slumber of which she is wholly undeserving. _

 

_ He presses a final kiss to her forehead, blinking back tears as he remembers their first kiss. That first locking of flesh to flesh by the warmth of a campfire. Young and supple bodies pressed together in teenage lust, eyes reflecting red and yellow from the flames. He remembers her voice in his ear, and then in his head. From that moment on, she was always in his head, like a malignant echo.  _

 

_ ‘You’re mine,’ she whispers, again and again. _

 

_ But not today. Not anymore. _

 

_ When he goes back to the home that isn’t a home, he doesn’t scream or rage or destroy. He simply sits, tears streaming down his face, staring at her half of the bed, her clothes in the cupboard, and her dressing gown, still slung over the chair in the corner. His eyes are blank, his mouth still. Eventually he falls asleep, just a ball in the corner, pathetic and alone. _

 

_ The phone call comes the next day. Her parents chose not to appeal, and they were there at the time. The doctor is kind and sympathetic. It was quick, apparently. It was painless. _

 

_ It was better than she deserved.  _

 

_ He thanks the doctor, before hanging up.  _

 

_ She’s gone. She’s dead. He’s free. _

 

_ And yet he still hears her voice, echoing in his mind, whispering over and over, again and again, in her honey-sweet tones. _

 

_ ‘You’re mine.’ _

 

***

 

Rey is small in his arms, and he tries to ignore the bruises that sit- high and proud, like marks of honour- across her neck. He ignores the roundness of her lips, swollen with his kisses. He ignores the bite marks that trail her upper arms, her chest and- further down, hidden beneath her shirt- her breasts and stomach.

 

He loves her too much and her body bears witness to his adoration. 

 

He licks at her bruises, soothing them with his tongue, and she sighs against him, her breath like a healing balm on his skin.

 

‘Stay,’ he implores her again. ‘Please.’

 

His ‘please’ is pitiful and broken. But he isn’t too proud to beg for her. For her, he will do anything.

 

‘No,’ she says, and his heart breaks again. ‘No, not like this.’

 

He could argue. He could rage. He could demand she stay. 

 

Instead, he pulls her closer, nuzzles into her. He breathes in her smell, memorising its notes and tones, just as he presses his fingers into her skin, hoping to imprint upon her skin as much as she has imprinted upon his heart. Abruptly, he hopes that if fingerprints have a memory, that his will be pleasant and long-lasting. He wants her to remember his hands upon her with happiness, as much as he knows he will always treasure the feel of her upon his own skin. He doesn’t want her to regret him.

 

He knows he will never regret her.

 

Her flight is called, and he walks her to security. She stands on her tiptoes to press one final kiss against his lips, to run a hand through his hair. He feels her tremble, and he catches her hand, holding her palm to his mouth and laying his mouth upon it, until her shivers cease.

 

‘Please,’ he whispers again, and for a moment he thinks she wavers. Her eyes lock with his, her voice seems to catch within her throat. Her hand is warm and alive within his.

 

But it is only for a moment, and then she is gone. 

 

It is only a moment, and then he is alone.

 

Only a moment, just another fleeting piece in the puzzle of his unhappiness.

 

His moments with her, he knows, are the only ones of his life that have ever meant anything.

 

And now he must begin to count the days, the hours, the minutes, until he may claim the next one.

 

***

 

_ She is buried by her parents, and he does not attend the funeral. Cards flutter through his door, from long forgotten friends and polite but distant family. He is surprised when his mother sends one too, a plain white card embossed with the image of a rain cloud, of light breaking through after the dark of a storm. _

 

_ ‘I didn’t like her, or what she did to you,’ his mother writes in her elegant hand. ‘And I am not sorry for her loss. But I am sorry for you, for the man you were, the man you should’ve been, and the man you have become. But Ben, please believe me when I tell you this; after every storm, there is always a ray of light to come. Look for the light, Ben. Look for the light.’ _

 

_ He burns that card just as he destroys all the others, and he buries their ashes in a long forgotten part of his garden, just as he has buried long-forgotten pieces of himself at the bottom of his soul. _

 

_ His world is nothing but darkness, and he is but a shadow in the void. _

 

_ Though even shadows need light to exist, he realises.  _

 

_ So it won’t be long until he starves and blurs into the night. _

 

_ *** _

 

He goes home. He picks up a bottle. He drinks.

 

The next day he does the same.

 

And again the next.

 

Days blend into weeks, and he sits at his desk, a drink in his hand, and writes.

 

He writes and writes and writes, until he has two hundred thousand words of self-hate, recriminations, and pain before him.

 

He sits outside, watching the sun sink behind a Utah horizon. 

 

_ ‘I’ll wait for you in the light,’  _ she told him. 

 

Night falls, and he sits in the darkness. 

 

He doesn’t know where to find the light. He’s spent so long in the darkness he’s not even sure he knows what light looks like. 

 

He drinks again. And then again.

 

In a drunken haze, he sends his new manuscript to Bazine. 

 

And then he drinks again.

 

And underneath it all, like a pulsing ember, is one thought:  _ I want to be worthy of her.  _

 

He misses her. He aches for her like he does all the other missing parts of his soul. 

 

Because she is a part of him now. And he is a part of her.

 

And then one morning, just as the sun rises, she calls.

 

***

 

_ When the call comes, he is in bed with a long-legged and red-haired girl whose name he has already forgotten. He’s naked and she wears nothing but her shirt, and he is about to reach for the condoms when his phone rings once, then twice, and then a third time.  _

 

_ ‘Shouldn’t you get that?’ The red-haired asks. _

 

_ ‘No,’ he replies. ‘They’ll leave a message.’ _

 

_ They fuck. It’s satisfactory in an empty kind of way, a fleeting pleasure, easily sought, easily won, and easily forgotten. _

 

_ The red-haired wants to meet again, and is angling for his number when he remembers his phone, reaching for it and calling his voicemail. _

 

_ He listens, stands, and dresses quickly. _

 

_ ‘I have to go,’ he tells the red-haired. _

 

_ ‘Leave me your number,’ she smiles.  _

 

_ ‘No,’ he says. _

 

_ He leaves.  _

 

_ He is walking out of her building, flinging his coat over his shoulders, when he picks up his phone again. He dials the number from the message, and is surprised when it is answered quickly.  _

 

_ The man on the other end talks. He says things that Ben, in this moment, struggles to take in. Words like ‘Heart attack,’ and ‘it was quick,’ and ‘of course, we need to inform the press.’ _

 

_ Like he gives a shit about the press. _

 

_ ‘Stop,’ Ben orders. ‘Just stop talking.’ _

 

_ The man falls silent. _

 

_ Ben hails a taxi. ‘Where is she?’ He demands. _

 

_ ‘Who?’ _

 

_ Ben swears under his breath. ‘You know fucking who.’ _

 

_ An address is given. A school, somewhere in Scotland. _

 

_ The taxi driver looks over his shoulder to Ben. _

 

_ ‘Where to?’ He asks. _

 

_ Ben hangs up the call. ‘JFK,’ he replies. ‘As fast as you can. I’d like to make the red-eye.’ _

 

_ *** _

 

Light, Ben learns, begins with a flicker.

 

The image Rey sends is cheap and grainy. Ben knows nothing of such things, and to his untrained eye, there is nothing to this photo but black and white shapes, just darkness and an absence of colour. He feels nothing when he looks at it, just as he felt nothing when Rey told him, beyond a complete lack of surprise and a deep feeling of guilt.

 

It is his housekeeper, surprisingly, who points out exactly what is what to him. She finds the photo on his desk, a coffee ring splashed across it, while tidying up after another one of his drunken splurges.

 

She wipes the photo clean, and attaches it to his whisky cabinet. Around the white shapes of the image she has drawn a line, and in the same black marker she has written a few words. ‘Head,’ and ‘heart’ and ‘feet’. 

 

In the white border of the photo she has written another word. ‘Baby.’

 

He doesn’t drink the whisky. In fact, he pours every last drop down the sink.

 

He’s just organised with his accountant to give his housekeeper a raise when an email from Bazine comes through.

 

_ Get your sorry ass on a plane to L.A,  _ she writes.  _ And now. _

 

_ *** _

 

_ The girl is pretty, young and an omega, and Ben’s breath catches in his throat as he stares at her. He still has the picture Han gave him, but that was the photo of a teenager, all sweet lines and an impish grin. This Rey is different. She’s grown up, more a woman than a girl, with sharp eyes and cheekbones a man could cut his teeth on. For a moment, Ben wonders what it would be like to sink his mouth into this omega, to bite down and claim such untasted flesh.  _

 

_ Because she is untasted; he can smell her virginity from here, a scent that makes his mind go black and his mouth water. And fuck, he really needs to up his blockers, because this girl, this omega, this sister of his... he’s been in a room with her for all of five minutes and he’s hardly able to breathe. His heart pounds in his chest, though he tries to hide his discomfort from her. _

 

_ He is supposed to take care of her. _

 

_ He is supposed to protect her. _

 

_ He won’t let Han and Leia down. Not again. _

 

_ So he shakes off the feeling, ignores her obvious beauty and that smell of pure want that she probably doesn’t even know she’s emitting, so similar to his own. _

 

_ He wants to tell her not to be afraid. _

 

_ He wants to tell her that he feels it too. _

 

_ Their conversation is stilted and borders on cruel. He disguises his lust with disdain, openly insulting her. But under her demure uniform and beneath her flashing eyes, she’s a spitfire, this Rey, and she gives as good as she gets.  _

_ Leia, he internally despairs more than once, what were you thinking in giving this girl to me? _

 

_ He leaves her that day to pack, going back to his quaintly tired hotel room to toss and turn upon his plaid quilt, masturbating twice while trying his best not to think of hazel eyes and fertile cheeks.  _

 

_ It’s torture of the sweetest, cruellest kind, made worse the next day, when she appears outside her school, dressed to travel in a simple dark dress, her hair worn loose around her shoulders. He’s never been a man for uniforms, and the ugly tartan of her schoolwear had acted almost as a kind of barrier, tempering his lust. But now, in her plain clothes, unadorned and unembellished, she looks young and sweet and kind and he can hardly look at her on their journey, in case he puts his mouth on her skin and never lets go. _

 

_ He leaves her at a hotel, immediately calling an old friend who he fucks around with while in London. She answers her phone and invites him over and he’s hardly through her door when he’s mauling at her clothes and pushing her to the floor. _

 

_ ‘What was that about?’ She asks, when it’s all over, breathless and red. _

 

_ He doesn’t answer; he just looks at the ceiling, hating himself and trying not to dwell on the fact that he just mentally fucked one girl while using the body of another. _

 

_ When he goes back for Rey, she’s dressed up, make-up painted across her pretty face, heels on her feet, her hair  worn up. He hates everything about it. She looks beautiful, but not at all like herself, and as they walk through the airport, he feels the eyes of other men fall upon her and he wants to kill them all.  _

 

_ This isn’t going to be a problem, he tells himself over dinner, watching her sip at a blood red wine, staining her kissable lips. This isn’t going to be an issue, he thinks, watching her stand, watching her go to the window, watching her watch the planes.  _

 

_ It’s only later, when they are 38,000 feet in the air, and she is asleep in her seat, her shoes kicked off, tendrils of hair brushing against her cheek, her book still clutched in his hand that he realises. _

 

_ This isn’t going to work.  _

 

_ He wants her. _

 

_ *** _

 

Bazine cuts straight to the point.

 

‘What the fuck is this?’ She indicates to a mass of paper on her desk, printed and bound before him.

 

‘My book,’ he replies easily.

 

Bazine rolls her eyes, and for a moment, Ben can’t believe he ever slept with this woman. He tries to remember what she is like naked, how she felt when she writhed beneath him. He tries to remember if she ever smiled, or laughed, or held him in anything other than lust.

 

But when he closes his eyes, all he can think of is Rey. He can recall with perfect clarity her smile as they lay together, soft and warm and curled up, skin pressed to skin. He can hear as though from the next room her laugh. He can feel her arms around his waist, her head on his shoulder, the companionable transference of warmth and love and affection from body to body.

 

Bazine sits, crossing her legs, flicking her fingers at the manuscript. ‘I’m not publishing this piece of shit book, Kylo... I mean Ben- whoever the fuck you are.’

 

Ben shrugs. ‘Is it completely unreadable?’

 

‘No.’

 

‘Then what?’

 

Bazine purses her lips. ‘When they gave me you as a client, I read  _ Heatseeker. _ I thought it was fucked up, but I knew you had it in you to be a great writer. And you have been.  _ Cronos _ was fucked up too, but it sold books and won awards and so I brushed off all my misgivings about where the inspiration for your books came from. But this?’ She shakes her head. ‘You honestly want me to publish a book about a man who falls in love with his sister, fucks her, and then kills her and then himself out of guilt? Really?’

 

Ben shrugs again. He’s beyond caring at this point.

 

Bazine gives him a long, hard look. The kind of look she’s good at. The kind of look that a year ago he would have happily fucked off her face, if only to get her to stop.

 

‘How is  _ your  _ sister, these days?’ She asks suddenly, and now Ben feels uncomfortable, shifting in his seat.

 

‘Pregnant,’ he replies. ‘And in London.’

 

Bazine exhales sharply. ‘Fuck,’ she says. ‘You don’t have any shame, do you?’

 

‘You’ve read my books,’ Ben tells her. ‘I am nothing but shame, you should know that.’

 

‘You fucked your own sister and-’

 

‘There’s no shared blood between us-’ Ben starts to protest, but Bazine stands, looking down on him with a quiet sort of disgust.

 

‘She’s a nineteen-year-old girl who trusted you. And I could give a damn for what blood you do or don’t share- legally, that girl was your sister and your ward and you fucked her and dumped her back where she came from. You fucking awful human being.’

 

Ben bites on his lip, clenching his fists. ‘I didn’t dump her back where she came from,’ he says, through gritted teeth. ‘I would never do that to her.’

 

‘Why is she in London then? And not with you?’

 

Ben inhales, unwilling to admit the truth. But Bazine is still looking at him, waiting for an answer, and so he exhales, averting his eyes.

 

‘She left me.’

 

And now Bazine is smiling. A Cheshire Cat grin, probably the most genuine smile he has ever seen spread across her pretty face. 

 

‘She left you?’ She shakes her head, as though in wonder. ‘Good for her. I never thought she would have it in her, you know. Anyone who saw the two of you would realise straightaway that- but she left you? When she found out she was pregnant?’

 

‘Before,’ Ben admits.

 

‘And will she be having an abortion? She should, you know.’

 

Ben’s nails dig so hard into his palms that he draws blood. ‘That isn’t my choice to make,’ he grits out, though the effort not to stand, not to instantly strike out, is immense. The thought of Rey destroying their child kills him inside.

 

Bazine smirks at his obvious displeasure. ‘Don’t worry. She’ll keep it. Her sort always do.’

 

Something occurs to Ben in that moment. ‘What about your sort?’ He asks.

 

Bazine flinches. ‘I’m sorry?’

 

‘What about you, Bazine? Is this your way of trying to tell me something? Did you ever have an abortion?’ 

 

Her face is like stone, and Ben feels another deep stab of shame.

 

‘Was it mine?’ He asks, somewhat pathetically.

 

‘No,’ Bazine immediately answers. ‘And don’t you worry about me. I worry about me. I always have, and I always will. You should worry about yourself, and this poor kid you knocked up.’

 

For a moment she is silent.

 

‘What should I do?’ Ben asks.

 

‘For one thing, I’m telling you again, I’m not publishing this piece of shit novel. I’m not doing that to your sister, or the baby she carries. Neither of them deserve to read this. So write me something I can publish. Write me something you would want them to read. You can do that, can’t you? I want you to sit at your desk, drink your coffee, and imagine that every word you put down on paper is going straight to them.’

 

Ben nods. Abruptly he feels exhausted. As though he could sleep and sleep and sleep and never wake again.

 

‘And I want you to get help. Find a fucking therapist. You should’ve found one years ago. Honestly, how are you not doped up with all the fucking stunts you’ve pulled in your time? After everything that your bitch ex-wife did?’ Bazine sits again, flicking a look at her long, ruby red nails. ‘Get help, Kylo.’

 

‘Find the light,’ he mutters, under his breath, and Bazine looks up, her eyes keen.

 

‘What was that?’

 

‘Find the light,’ Ben murmurs. ‘Something I was told once.’

 

Something in Bazine seems to soften.

 

‘Did she send you a picture of the baby?’ She asks. ‘When is she due?’

 

‘Four months from now. I have a scan picture,’ and Ben fumbles in his bag, pulling from it the most recent photo Rey has sent him.

 

Bazine takes it from him, examining it with interest. ‘A girl,’ she notes. ‘Well then, my congratulations.’

 

‘What?’ Ben asks sharply, breathing deep. ‘What did you just say?’

 

‘This is a girl,’ Bazine says patiently. ‘You see? In this corner?’ She points to the image. ‘The ‘F’ there indicates that this is a girl.’

 

Ben takes the photo back, staring at it intently. ‘A girl,’ he repeats, his voice broken.

 

Bazine sighs. ‘Get help,’ she says again, before she pulls out another file of paperwork. ‘And also, get the fuck out of my office. And don’t come back until you have something I can actually fucking publish.’

 

***

 

_ Licking and scent-marking Rey is one of the most erotic pleasures of his life. There’s something primal about the act, something deep inside him that purrs as he puts his tongue to her neck, his lips on her body. This is right, his body seems to say. This is how it is meant to be, it tells him. _

 

_ Her eyes are black with pleasure, her breath coming in little pants that makes him want to explore her further, to learn what else he can do to elicit these exciting responses from her body. _

 

_ But no.  _

 

_ She’s not for him, he reminds himself, almost violently. _

 

_ Abruptly, he thinks of Hosnia. He thinks of her with horror, recalling the ties around her wrists and neck, the brutality that was done to her body. He thinks of Alexandra, of her hideous laugh, of her breath, vile and fetid on his neck as she whispers into his ear. _

 

_ ‘You’re mine.’ _

 

_ Rey tastes like freedom and promise and home all at once. Everything he has ever wanted, but nothing he has ever deserved. _

 

_ And so he lets her go.  _

 

_ And inside he weeps, for everything he ever was, everything that could have been, but mostly for everything that is.  _

 

_ And the voice in his head is stronger than ever, even from beyond the grave. _

 

_ ‘You’re mine.’ _

 

_ *** _

 

His daughter is born in an English hospital on a rainy day. Rey calls him when it is done, and he cries with relief. Relief that it is done, relief that Rey is safe, relief that their baby is here, whole and well and with a shock of dark hair. 

 

‘Let me come to you,’ he begs, but the silence on the other end of the line is cutting.

 

‘How are you, Ben?’ Rey asks. ‘Poe said he saw you recently. He said you’d been drinking. How are you, really?’

 

He can’t lie to her, and so he tells her everything. About the sleepless nights and hazy days. About the manuscript he is struggling to write. About the nightmares he still has. How some days he swears he will never drink again. About the days when all he can do is numb himself with alcohol. Mostly, he tells her about his fears that he will never be worthy of her. Of  _ them  _ now, he reminds himself.

 

Rey listens, and he knows she is crying. He can practically feel the salt of her tears on his fingers.

 

‘I have to put her first for a while, you know that, don’t you Ben?’ Rey tells him. ‘She’s so little and helpless and she needs us to put her first.’

 

Through tears, they talk. Ben will get help, they decide. He promises to get help. He’ll stop the drinking. And Rey... Rey will wait for him. She’ll take care of the baby. Get a job. She’ll wait.

 

‘Will you send me pictures?’ Ben asks. ‘Please? I’d like to... I’d like to see her. And you’ll... will you tell her about me?’

 

‘Everyday,’ Rey promises. ‘I’ll tell her about you everyday,’ she pauses. ‘I’m going to call her Havilland.’

 

‘Havilland,’ Ben repeats. ‘Yes. Yes that’s good.’

 

‘It has a H and two L’s in it,’ Rey carries on, ‘For Han, Leia and Luke.’

 

Ben’s throat feels swollen. He can’t speak.

 

‘Luke knows, of course,’ Rey tells him. ‘He’s going to fly over next week to meet her. And Poe.’

 

It cuts Ben to the bone to know that his uncle will meet his daughter before him. That Poe Dameron will meet her before him. 

 

But he has to put her first. And she deserves the family Rey will build for her. She deserves the world.

 

Light begins with a flicker, this Ben knows.

 

Today he learns that flickers can become embers. 

 

As he stares at the first photograph of his new daughter, all soft skin, dark hair and fluttery lashes, he feels a flicker within him grow into something more.

 

Ben gets help. 

 

He fans that ember into a flame.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know.
> 
> It sucks that Ben doesn’t get to meet his baby.
> 
> Rey is doing the right thing though. A man who has the history Ben has, without ever having received any therapy or post-trauma stress counselling, probably shouldn’t be involved in the life of a newborn.
> 
> He is going to get better though, and he will meet his daughter in chapter 21.
> 
> And Rey will keep her promise.x


	20. Epilogue Two: Grasshopper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally much longer, but I realised most of Ben’s therapy was a rehash of issues we’ve already covered in this fic. So I cut it down to the bare bones.
> 
> The next chapter is our reconciliation. 
> 
> It’s much longer, and I apologise in advance for that.

There’s a grasshopper on Ben’s ceiling.

 

It must have jumped in through the open window, past the nondescript curtain that ruffles ever-so-gently in the summer breeze.

 

It’s small and vividly green, with paper-thin wings tucked neatly against its body. Ben knows that in the grand scheme of life, this insect is probably insignificant- but still, he looks at it anyway, intrigued. It's so obvious against the sterile white walls of the clinic; like an emerald dropped in a landscape of white stucco, a living splash of colour in a lifeless environment.

 

Something alive and driven by instinct. And now, something caught in a trap of its own making.

 

Ben understands that. 

 

_ Yes,  _ he thinks, looking at the insect, watching it blindly search for an escape, he knows all about  _ that _ .

 

He stares at the grasshopper for a full hour, watching it jump from place to place, desperately searching out grass or the open skies. Wings flutter helplessly, beating hard, while it turns, this way and that, completely lost and disorientated.

 

Ben can relate. At this moment he is just as much as prisoner of this room as the frantic insect. And like the grasshopper, he walked into his prison willingly.

 

_ The Naboo Clinic _ sounded, on paper, like the ideal choice. 

 

It’s pretty and green here, all rolling hills, meadows, and picturesque lakes. In the distance, Ben can see mountains capped with snow. The skies are blue and the air is clean. It is the perfect place, the brochure promised him, to sober up and get intense therapy. 

 

And they weren’t lying, in many ways. There’s yoga every morning by the lake. There’s Pilates in the studio overlooking the flower fields. There’s healthy food, served three times a day.

 

There’s also bars on the windows, locked doors and a legally binding contract keeping him here until he is deemed fit to return to society. He doesn’t remember coming across them in the brochure, but then, he never was one to read the small print. 

 

The first few months here went by in a blur of withdrawal and therapy. The withdrawal stage was... unpleasant. Ben vaguely recalls at one point throwing a chair across a room. He has a lingering suspicion he threatened the staff. He knows for a fact he wept terribly every night, his pillow horribly damp by midnight, then salt-stiff and dry by dawn.

 

But it isn’t the alcohol he is withdrawing from. Of all his addictions in life, alcohol has always been the most manageable, the one he could walk away from at any point without regret.

 

No, his withdrawal here is from  _ Rey. _

 

Rey. The one thing in life he is certain he could never get enough of.

 

When he checked in to the clinic, the supervising admissions clerk took him into a sunny side room, where she gave him coffee, a cookie, and took the details of any family he might have who should be contacted in an emergency.

 

‘This clinic is an immersive environment,’ she explained kindly. ‘We don’t allow any contact with the outside world until we’re certain you can handle it. Normally it’s family members who check people in here, but you...’ she waved a hand at the paperwork before her. ‘You’re self-referred and self-admitting. I have to know that you’re okay with our rules before we can proceed any further.’

 

Ben had looked up at her, his eyes blank.

 

‘How long?’

 

She frowned. ‘I’m sorry?’

 

‘How long until you can fix me?’ 

 

The clerk frowns. ‘We don’t believe in using words like ‘fix’ here. We prefer to say ‘rehabilitated’.’

 

Ben briefly smirks, an ugly expression crossing his face. ‘With all due respect, you don’t ‘rehabilitate’ a broken car, or a shattered mirror. You fix them. You fix things when they are broken,’ he exhaled deeply. ‘And I’m pretty fucking broken. So I’ll ask again, how long until you can fix me?’

 

The clerk nods. ‘Most of the Alphas we get here are rehabilitated-’ she stopped and glanced at him warily. ‘Well, the average time for them to be considered fit for release is about six months.’

 

Six months. Ben chewed on his lip, considered the time. How old would Havi be in six months? A year? Would she be walking? Or crawling? Would she be talking? 

 

Would she recognise him? Or worse... would he still recognise her?

 

He exhales, abruptly exhausted, defeat in his eyes.

 

‘Six months?’ he says, his eyes flicking up to the clerk.

 

‘Yes,’ she tells him. ‘But that is the average, and not a set time. We will only release you when  _ we _ feel you can adapt to the outside world without endangering yourself or others. After you sign this document, you don’t get a say in this. I need to know you understand this.’

 

‘I understand,’ he nods. 

 

Because what else can he do? He needs help. He needs intense help.

 

He needs to get back to Rey and Havi. 

 

And this is his best hope.

 

‘I’ll sign,’ he says firmly.

 

The clerk gives a relieved smile. ‘This is a good choice, Mr. Solo,’ she passes the contract to him, holds out a pen. ‘Now, if you could just tell me the name of a family member I can contact in an emergency-’

 

‘There isn’t anyone.’

 

‘Oh, but there must be someone-’

 

‘No,’ Ben’s voice is firm and bitter. ‘There really isn’t.’

 

Suddenly he pauses.

 

‘What is it, Mr. Solo?’

 

He licks his lips. ‘I have a daughter,’ he tells her, the words still decidedly odd on his tongue. ‘Her mother and I are estranged. But she sends me pictures. Can she send them still? To here?’

 

The clerk nods. ‘Put a redirect on your post to the clinic, and we will decide what mail will be in your best interests to receive.’

 

Ben bristles instantly. ‘This is  _ my daughter _ we are talking of. She’s the only self-interest I have at this point. She’s the best thing about me.’

 

The clerk’s head ducks to one side sympathetically. ‘You can’t measure self-worth in other people, Mr. Solo. Particularly where children are concerned. That only leads to trouble.’

 

Ben stares at her, but she doesn’t look away.

 

‘And what of the mother?’ she asks him.

 

‘What of her?’ he asks, his voice low. 

 

‘I’m not an idiot,’ the clerk tells him. ‘I’m an Alpha too. You have to be, to work in a clinic full of troubled ones. And I can smell your mate all over you. Because you  _ did  _ mate this Omega, didn’t you?’

 

Ben pauses. His mind involuntarily drifts back to Rey’s heat, to a cabin lit by moonlight, to soft blankets on a floor, and even softer hands wrapped around him. He thinks back to gentle kisses and whispered endearments. He thinks back to a warm, wet heat and Rey’s skin breaking under his teeth.

 

‘Yes,’ he says softly. ‘I mated her.’

 

‘And yet you’re estranged,’ the clerk’s voice is matter-of-fact. ‘Which tells me that for your recovery, this Omega might be an issue. So, I’ll tell you again. The clinic will decide what mail will be beneficial to you, just as we will decide what mail might be detrimental.’

 

Ben looks down. His hands are clenched, his shoulders hunched. He swears, a brutal exhalation in the calm of the room, before reaching for the contract and signing.

 

The clerk smiles again. ‘You’re doing the right thing.’

 

But Ben only shrugs. ‘I’m doing the only thing I can,’ he replies.

 

***

 

His personal therapist is kind but cool, completely detached from his issues and giving her advice and suggestions only when asked. Mostly, Ben talks at her, prompted by the occasional question or two.

 

He tells her everything, leaving nothing out. He talks about his parents, about Alexandra, about Hosnia and all the other Omegas. He talks about Rey, and about Havi.

 

He’s been in the clinic about five months when, one cool afternoon, just as the sun is setting in the distance, his therapist taps her pen against her notepad.

 

‘I find it strange that you fell in love with the woman you hated the most,’ she muses.

 

Ben sits up. ‘You mean Alex? But I didn’t hate her... not at first. Not until-’

 

‘Not your wife,’ his therapist says. ‘I mean Rey.’

 

He blanches, his skin paling and hand twitching. The desire to return to violence is still, on occasion, so strong.

 

‘I didn’t hate her. I’ve never hated her.’

 

‘We both know that’s not true, Ben,’ his therapist tells him. ‘Don’t you find it odd that when your mother died you rushed straight to Rey’s side, even  _ before  _ you’d read the contents of your mother’s will?’

 

‘Rey is my... Rey was my  _ sister, _ ’ Ben explains. ‘I had to... I had to...’

 

‘Had to what?’

 

‘Protect her,’ he mutters.

 

His therapist raises an eyebrow at him. ‘Really? From what?’

 

Ben stays silent.

 

‘She was in a good school. A secure school, only for Omegas. She had her mother’s staff at hand, whenever she needed them. Staff she’d known since she was what? Eight-years-old? So, tell me Ben... exactly what were you protecting her from?’

 

Ben inhales sharply. ‘Nothing,’ he says tightly. ‘I wasn’t protecting her from anything.’

 

‘Yes you were,’ his therapist corrects him. ‘You were protecting her from  _ yourself,  _ Ben. You told me already, your wife wanted you to bring Rey into your home so you could both use her for your own pleasure. But you refused. In fact, you described this moment as the catalyst for you leaving your wife, and abandoning the hedonistic lifestyle she demanded of you. An admirable, if delayed, stance to take. But you could’ve carried on protecting her by staying away from her. And yet, as soon as your mother died, you rushed to her. Why?’

 

Ben flushes. ‘I wanted to see her.’

 

‘Why?’

 

‘Because she was my sister.’

 

‘Don’t lie to me. I’m trained to see through that kind of bullshit. Try again.’

 

‘Because I was curious,’ Ben admits.

 

‘Curious? You had a picture. You knew she’d been beloved by your father. You weren’t curious. Try again, Ben.’

 

Ben bites hard on his lip, so that he draws blood. ‘I don’t know what you’re trying to get me to say.’

 

‘I’m not trying to get you to ‘say’ anything,’ his therapist leans forward. ‘I’m trying to get you to admit a truth you already know. Which is what?  _ Tell me.’ _

 

Ben takes a ragged breath. ‘I went to see her, because I was planning on fucking her.’

 

The truth, when he speaks it, is ugly and hard. He cannot help the tears that begin to run down his face, just as he cannot help himself from from feeling a frisson of self-hatred. With shaking hands he reaches for the cup of water by his side. His therapist sighs.

 

‘You were going to hurt her in the only way you knew how to hurt women,’ she says.

 

‘Yes. You have to understand... this was the girl that my parents  _ replaced  _ me with. This was the girl that they loved, more than they ever loved me. This was the girl they put all their hopes and energy and affection in. Rey was my other half, my female counterpart. And they loved her so much.’

 

‘Rey was your  _ other half? _ ’ The therapist writes something down. ‘Explain that.’

 

‘Well, she was  _ me,’  _ Ben says, his mouth still dry, despite the water. ‘She was a child of Leia and Han. She was the daughter to me, the son. She was the Omega to me, the Alpha. She was the good to my bad. She was my other half. In a way, she was me, only another, alternate version.’

 

‘And you planned on fucking her? For what purpose?’

 

‘To hurt her. To sully her. To damage her,’ Ben admits, his face drawn.

 

‘So you wanted to hurt another version of yourself?’ His therapist suggests. ‘You mean, you hated her because you hated yourself? You wanted to hurt her because it would hurt you?’

 

Ben opens his mouth to reply, but no sound comes out.

 

‘Ben?’

 

‘Yes,’ he finally whispers. ‘I hated her because I hated myself. I wanted to hurt her because I wanted to hurt myself. But more than that... I wanted company.’

 

‘Company?’

 

He clears his throat. ‘I wanted someone to share the darkness with me. To lighten my load, I guess. And who better than another version of myself?’

 

His therapist stares at him. Outside, he can hear the clinking of plates and glasses. It is nearly time for dinner, he realises. A hearty three-course meal to wash down his shame. His stomach revolts in protest.

 

‘Why didn’t you?’

 

‘Why didn’t I what?’ he asks quietly.

 

‘Fuck her. Hurt her. Damage her.’

 

Ben sighs. He looks out the window, to where the sun is but a sliver against the purple sky.

 

‘Because I opened my mother’s will.’

 

‘And?’

 

Ben starts to cry in earnest now. ‘And she left her with me. My mother. She  _ trusted  _ me with her. My mother, who knew what I was, and all I had done. Who knew what a risk I was to any Omega... and she gave me Rey. My mother still believed in me, despite everything. She believed I would never hurt her.’

 

His therapist nods. Ben swallows down a wave of nausea.

 

‘But I hurt her anyway. I fucked her, like I’d planned to in the beginning. I hurt her, just like I’d wanted to.’

 

He sobs into his hands, his back heaving and his body shaking. His tears are a torrent of self-flagellation, his cries the sound of a broken man.

 

His therapist stands, and comes to kneel beside him.

 

‘Ben. Ben, listen to me. You didn’t hurt her.’

 

‘Yes... Yes I did, and-’

 

‘No. You loved her. You mated her. You sired a child upon her. And when she asked if of you, you let her go. Those weren’t the actions of hate, Ben. You loved her, Ben. And that’s okay. Because you loved her in the real spirit of that word, of that affection. It wasn’t a lust born from hatred. It wasn’t a lust born from mere desire.  _ You loved her. _ ’

 

Ben wipes at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. ‘I wish that were true. You don’t know how much. But I... I don’t even know what love is. Not really.’ 

 

His therapist sighs.

 

‘And yet you’re here, trying to make yourself a better man for this woman and your child,’ she pats him on the shoulder gently. ‘You know more than you think.’

 

***

 

When the grasshopper tires, and stops moving, Ben stands. He’s been in the clinic ten months now.

 

But he hasn’t heard from Rey. 

 

Not even once. 

 

He thinks of Havi in his spare moments between classes and therapy. The only picture he has of her, the one he keeps taped next to his bed, shows a chubby-cheeked baby, dark-haired and dark eyed, wearing Rey’s wide grin. 

 

How old will Havi be now? He doesn’t need to calculate. His little girl’s birthday is permanently etched into both his mind and heart. 

 

Havi will be nearly a year and a half. He checked out a book from the clinic library on babies and their development, not so that he knows what might yet come, but so that he can check off the things he’s  _ missed. _

 

Her birth. Her first smile. Her first garbled words. Her first laugh. 

 

He checks the book, looks at the development scale next to Havi’s age.

 

It’s as he thought. He’s missed her first steps too.

 

He closes the book, feeling a stab of pain.

 

He turns to his nightstand, makes another mark on the A4 sheet of paper he uses to keep track of time. 

 

He closes his eyes, and thinks of Rey. He thinks of her smile and her hope and her eternal belief that he will meet her in the light.

 

He allows himself to mourn the things he’s missed.

 

But then he opens his eyes, and concentrates on the things that are yet to come.

 

He thinks of Rey, and Havi. He imagines them all together.

 

Carefully, he pulls his chair out from under his table and reaches up to the ceiling. Gently, he cups his hand around the grasshopper, feeling it flutter between his fingers, a light pulse in his hands.

 

He steps towards the window, thrusting his hands between the bars and releasing his fingers.

 

The grasshopper lands on the sill, unmoving and still. For a moment Ben panics, wondering if he unwittingly crushed it, like he has so unwittingly crushed many others in his pathetic life.

 

He brushes a finger against its wings, feeling their delicate length spring to life. He nudges the insect with his finger.

 

And then he watches as the grasshopper jumps, from the window into the grass. And then he watches as it jumps again, across the field, and away from this prison.

 

Ben’s heart is light and his smile genuine as he watches the grasshopper fade from view, blending into the green of the environment.

 

And the next day.

 

The next day, his therapist shakes his hand.

 

The next day, the clerk pats him on the shoulder.

 

The next day, Ben packs his bag and tenderly puts his picture of Havi back into his wallet.

 

Because the next day, he is free.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m hoping to post the next chapter tomorrow. But I’ll see how things fare. I do realise this fic isn’t for everyone and I’m truly thankful to all those people who reached out to me about this. Much love, Sian.xx


	21. Not Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The woman who beta read this is terminally ill.
> 
> So I’m getting it out there, just like she would want me to.
> 
> This is for you, my Mama Bear. You told me a wife and mother could still write smut, and practically forced me to write that dirty version of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. You’re the best writer I know. And you have a beautifully filthy mind, and I’m going to miss you and your stories more than you know.
> 
> You told me that ‘if this wasn’t a fucking Reylo fic, you would publish this shit.’ You’ve kept inspiring me to write more.
> 
> 23 was always my lucky number, and there’s 6000 words left of this, so two more chapters gets me to 23. 
> 
> Mama Bear needs all the luck she can get.x

The Summer sunshine is warm on Ben’s face when he meets Jess.

 

He’s in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, at the biggest aviation fayre in the country. Half a million people cram into a small town with a population of a little over sixty thousand, to see, talk and tinker about with airplanes. Ben’s not one for crowds, and normally wouldn’t touch a fayre like this with a bargepole. But he’s here to meet an enthusiast who claims to have an intact De Havilland pilot’s chair, and for that, Ben is willing to make an exception. And so, he stands in the sunshine, half-an-hour before his arranged meeting, sitting on a bench by a pop-up cafe and watching a pilot perform aerobatics in a souped-up 1970’s Hawk.

 

The pilot is clearly talented, cutting through the sky in a complicated series of loops and swirls. When the display is finished, the pilot returning to the runway with a landing that looks easier than it probably is, Ben joins the crowd in enthusiastic applause. 

 

He’s grinning, but he doesn’t mind. It’s summer; the sun is warm and the sky blue. The general good cheer of the crowd is infectious, and the smell of coffee and french fries drifts across the viewing area. Children skirt around their parent’s legs, while aviation enthusiasts chatter inanely about aircraft and the coming demise of the 747. Ben’s alone, but not unhappy.

 

He’s healthy. He’s content. He’s settled.

 

He’s four months out of the clinic and doing well. His newest book- the one he wrote between those four white walls of the clinic- is selling, and even Baz wrote him to congratulate him for the novel.

 

_ Fuck me, Solo,  _ her brief note stated, ‘ _ Redemption’ isn’t half-bad. You’re still a shit, but you’re a shit who can write, so kudos for that. _

 

He’d laughed, tucking her note into a copy of the book before filing it on his shelf, knowing that much like Baz herself, he won’t ever touch it again.

 

For the first time since his teenage years, there’s no woman or women in his life. He misses company, but it's not the all-encompassing, depressing emptiness of before. He doesn’t need a woman to fill the gaping chasm in his soul now, not when that chasm is filling out, filled by months of therapy, hard-work, and self-forgiveness. 

 

Besides, he doesn’t want any woman but Rey, and Rey... well, he hasn’t been able to locate her. Her, or Havi. It’s frustrating, and on occasion, on the nights when he can’t sleep, he tosses and turns in his bed, fretting over them. They are the missing parts of his soul, after all.

 

But he simply takes a deep breath, and puts them from his mind. His therapist warned him on his discharge from the hospital not to instantly run out and chase after them. 

 

‘Take time to learn who you are without them,’ she’d said sternly. ‘Trust me. Your relationship with them will be a thousand times better in the long run if you give yourself time to know what sort of man you want to be to them when you do eventually see them. And you  _ will  _ see them both again, Ben.’

 

She’s right, and Ben knows that. Besides, if Rey wanted to be in contact with him, she would be. But he hasn’t heard from her in well over a year, and though it stings- she never sent even one letter or picture of Havi to the clinic- he tries to understand, and let it go.

 

And so he gets on with his life, accepting that one day, she will come to him. Or perhaps one day he’ll get a sign that it's time to go to her. Either way, Ben is resigned. He knows that Rey must be well, wherever she is. If something were to happen to her or to Havi, Ben knows that as the second signatory on Rey’s trust fund, Poe Dameron would let him know. That is the small thought that comforts him in the dead of night, when he nearly-  _ nearly _ \- comes close to going out of his mind for missing them both.

 

But he won’t lose his mind this time. Not when he’s worked so hard to make himself whole again.

 

He works on the Comet mostly these days, and the plane is heart wrenchingly close to be airworthy again. He’s living in Mustafar, not out of any real love for the place, but because it’s the one place that Rey knows to find him. And perhaps he finally suits the desert lifestyle, his body brown from the sun and his muscles more defined than ever, from hard physical labour. Because he tends his land and mends his plane and explores the desert, pushing the shadow of his Grandfather from the place at last, making it wholly his own.

 

And that gives him peace. For at long last his mind is his own, his heart is his own, his life is his own and his land his own. But for the part of him that will forever belong to Rey and Havi, he is his own person. He is free.

 

On leaving the clinic, he went to visit the last living links to his past. To New York, where an unchanged Armitage Hux sneered at him for not partaking of either the wine or Omegas he offered him, and then to Washington, where Phasma- who had been there the night Hosnia died- was living these days.

 

Phasma hadn’t been happy to see him.

 

‘I’ve shut a door on that part of the past, and I don’t want to reopen it,’ she said with a shrug, ungraciously offering him tea. ‘I’m glad you’re doing well, Ben, I really am. But I have no desire to see you or any of that crowd ever again.’

 

She revealed to Ben that after Hosnia she’d had a complete hysterectomy. Always the reluctant Omega, Hosnia’s death had propelled her into a choice she’d already been on the cusp of making. 

 

‘No more slick, no more pheromones, no more heats,’ she’d said firmly. ‘No more Alphas, either,’ she’d added, closing the door in his face.

 

He had to respect her for that.

 

He’d visited Alexandra’s father too, very briefly. Her mother wouldn’t see him.

 

‘You have to understand,’ the man who’d once been his father-in-law told him. ‘She misses her.’

 

‘Do you?’ Ben asked, his voice quiet.

 

The older man pressed his lips together, his eyes blank. ‘I miss her as she was when she was a baby. I miss her as she was when she was a girl. But I don’t miss the woman she became. And I blame myself for that.’

 

‘You shouldn’t-’ Ben began, but her father cut him off.

 

‘No, don’t. You’re not a father. Only a father could understand.’

 

Ben opened his wallet, pulling out his well-worn picture of Havi and handing it over.

 

‘My daughter,’ he said, quiet but proud. 

 

The older man inhaled sharply, nodding as he stared at the picture. ‘You’ll forgive me,’ he said, wiping at his cheeks and the tears that streaked down them. 

 

Ben thought he understood. In another lifetime, one where Alexandra Snoke had been a loving wife and good person and not the sociopath she truly became, this might have been her child, and this man’s grandchild. And even Ben, who’d learned to hate Alexandra Snoke and everything she’d ever been to him, felt a sudden torrent of grief.

 

‘That’s a pretty little girl you have there,’ the photo was pressed back into Ben’s waiting fingers. 

 

Ben shook his hand as he took his leave. ‘I’ll come again,’ he promised, meaning every word.

 

But Alexandra’s father shook his head. ‘Please don’t. Get out there and live your life, Ben. You do no good clinging to me, or to... to any of this. Good luck to you, son.’

 

His voice wavered on that final word.

 

In a way, visiting his past and cutting ties with it was almost cathartic. Ben felt better for it, and a little more of that hole in his soul was filled.

 

He felt more at ease than he had for years.

 

And as he stood, in a field in Wisconsin, watching a pretty brunette step out of her Hawk and bow to the still clapping crowd, the sunshine on his back, he felt his healing soul give a little leap.

 

And he was still grinning when she scanned the crowds and paused, meeting his gaze.

 

And his soul leapt a little more when she returned his smile.

 

***

 

Ben’s sitting in the Comet, working on a flight-plan with Jess when his phone rings. He looks down at the caller I.D and sucks in a breath.

 

‘Here,’ he says, shoving the plan into her hands. ‘I’m going to step outside to take this.’   

 

And Jess grins, her smile lighting up her pretty face, and Ben wonders again, not for the first time, if he’s doing the right thing by keeping her at an arm’s length.

 

Because Jess has made her interest in him known for a long time now. 

 

‘I don’t just want you as a co-pilot, or as a friend,’ she told him honestly. ‘You’re an Alpha, I’m an Omega. We’re both pilots. We get along so well together. This could be it for us, Ben.’

 

But Ben always pulls away, even though- on occasion- his body roars at him to take Jess, to claim her, and make her his. Because she isn’t ‘it’ for him. 

 

That will forever be Rey.

 

‘I have a mate,’ he’ll remind Jess gently.

 

But she always shakes her head. ‘You did. Now you don’t. You and I both know that to stay mated, an Alpha has to see his Omega through her heats. And it’s been too long since you and your mate parted,’ Jess’s eyes flutter downwards, almost shy. ‘I could stop my suppressants... you could see me through a heat, you could bite me when-’

 

But Ben is fervent in his refusal. 

 

He’s only ever seen one Omega through her heat. For so many things, Rey has never been his first or only. In this she is both, and as such, that is almost sacred to him. 

 

‘Let’s not confuse things,’ he’ll tell Jess kindly. ‘Look, we’re going to pilot this old hunk of junk around the world one day. Let’s concentrate on that.’

He steps outside into the hot sun before sliding right to accept the call.

 

‘Hello?’ the voice is still so familiar, and Ben stiffens almost by default.

 

‘Dameron,’ he says stiffly. ‘What can I do for you?’

 

Dameron must sense that Ben isn’t keen on speaking with him, because he gets right to the point.

 

‘Nothing, really,’ he replies, just as formal now. ‘I just thought I should let you know that Rey’s been in touch.’

 

Ben’s heart seems to stop within his chest. ‘What?’ he breathes, through a mouth that is almost as dry as the desert air around him.

 

‘Rey’s been in touch, and she asked-’

 

‘Is she okay? Is Havi okay?’ Ben’s voice is raised, almost frantic.

 

Poe must hear it, because his voice relaxes. ‘Yeah, sure. She said they were both fine. Havi’s a bit of a handful, terrible twos I guess, and-’

 

And Ben can’t hear this. He can’t hear news about his child from Poe Dameron, of all people. Even though he is desperate for even the smallest scrap of knowledge.

 

‘What did she want?’ he cuts in.

 

Poe’s silent for a moment. ‘Look, Ben, she wanted to know if it would impact upon her trust fund if she got married.’

 

The desert is still, the landscape empty. Ben feels sick, and his world spins. He takes the phone away from his ear for a moment, breathing deeply, falling to his knees.

 

‘Ben? Ben? Are you still there? Look-’

 

Poe’s voice is a buzz in the silence, and it takes Ben real effort to bring it back to his ear.

 

‘She’s getting married? Rey?’ 

 

Poe pauses. ‘Yeah. I think so. She met this guy. She didn’t give me any details, but she sounded real happy.’

 

The rest of the call passes in a blur. Ben hangs up, pressing his face into his hands. That emptiness in his soul threatens to open up, to split into him into two. But Ben clings onto himself with two grasping hands. 

 

He won’t let himself fall. He can’t.

 

Not even for her.

 

Not when she was the reason he built himself back up in the first place.

 

He stares out at the desert. He watches the clouds dart across the sky. He pushes aside his pain, instead revelling in the knowledge that she is well and she is happy.

 

Because she deserves to be happy. 

 

She does. Even...

 

He swallows. Even if it isn’t with him.

 

And Rey would never choose a bad man, Ben knows. Not when she’s already been with him. He was the all the bad she could ever need in her lifetime, he thinks ruefully.

 

And there is comfort there too, in knowing that a good man will marry Rey and care for Rey and, by default, for Havi too. 

 

Because where his daughter is concerned, Ben is happy to be selfless. And if he can’t raise his daughter himself, he is glad that a good man somewhere out there will. Ben’s a realist these days. He’s never met Havi. Never held her in his arms or kissed her baby-soft skin. He’s never given her a bottle, or held her hand as she toddled beside him. 

 

But this man, the one Rey will marry, probably has.

 

And this man will probably go to watch her soccer games. He’ll probably take her to the movies to watch bad cartoons. He’ll be the one to vet her boyfriends, and one day, walk her down the aisle. All the things that Dads do. Good Dads. Dads who didn’t fuck up their lives quite so spectacularly as Ben did.

 

He’s bitter, but realistic. Havi doesn’t know him. She probably never will. And all he knows of her is a faded baby picture. She’s nothing but a dream in his head, really.

 

But he’ll be damned if anyone thinks he’ll ever let that dream go. 

 

He isn’t sure how long he sits for, looking out over the desert landscape. But it must be long enough that Jess comes to find him. 

 

He hears her footsteps, soft behind him. He feels her weight, warm and real and  _ there  _ as she settles next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder. And Ben just  _ knows  _ in that moment. 

 

Rey is lost to him. Havi is but a dream. 

 

Jess is here. And he suspects she will always be there, if he needs her. No, not needs. He doesn’t  _ need  _ anyone, these days. It’s wants. If he wants her, she’ll be there.

 

And so he looks down, running a finger under her chin and tilting her head towards his. And as the sun dips behind the horizon, he kisses her. Soft and gentle. 

 

It’s not the best ‘first kiss’ of his lifetime. That moment will forever belong to Rey, and to the taste of her tears on his lips as he kissed her by a kitchen sink. But it’s a good kiss, all the same. And a kiss that makes hope flare within him.

 

He wants to be in love again, he realises. He desperately wants to be happy again. 

 

And Jess feels like the right place to start.

 

***

 

Jess won’t let him turn the plane back to Australia.

 

‘What the fuck?’ she snaps, taking control of the aircraft from him. ‘We don’t have the fuel, a flight plan, or permission to do that, Ben. What the actual fuck?’

 

But Ben is sitting, tightly wound, clutching the picture of his daughter that Rey placed in his maintenance log. 

 

‘I need to get back,’ he says again, his voice tight. ‘She’s there, Jess.’

 

But Jess is too busy correcting their flight path to listen to him. In that moment, she isn’t his girlfriend. She’s a pilot, and she’s flying this plane.

 

‘Just shut up, Ben,’ she orders. ‘We’re landing as per our agreed flight plan. I’m not going to log this incident, even though I should. But you’re going to sit there quietly until we land. I’ll talk to you once this bird is safely back on the ground.’

 

And all Ben can do is nod, because he needs to be a pilot right now too. 

 

38,000 feet in the air is not the time to have a life-altering moment, after all. 

 

It’s later on, when they’re at home, both tired beyond comprehension, that Ben returns from the shower to find Jess sitting on their bed, looking at him through exhausted eyes.

 

‘It was never going to be me, was it?’ she asks, and there is resignation in her voice.

 

Ben opens his mouth to reply before closing it sadly.

 

He thinks the world of Jess. This is the woman who, for the past six months, has been his constant companion. This is the woman who has shared his bed and shared his life. They’ve flown together and laughed together and lived together. He’s met her parents, had dinner with them. They’ve talked tentatively of her stopping her suppressants. They’d talked of maybe getting married. Of possibly having children.

 

But-

 

‘No,’ Ben says softly. ‘No. It was never going to be you.’

 

Jess nods. ‘That woman... the engineer in Australia... that was her, wasn’t it?’

 

‘Yes.’

 

Because yes. It was always going to be Rey. It’s always going to be Rey for him.

 

It’s then that Ben sees Havi’s picture in Jess’s hand. Instantly, a roar of protection seems to flood him, and he reaches for it.

 

Jess hesitates for a moment, before handing the picture over. She gives him a sad smile. ‘Go find them,’ she tells him. ‘Go find them, and be happy, Ben.’

 

‘But Jess-’

 

But she shakes her head. ‘I won’t be here when you get back. Something tells me you won’t be coming home alone next time.’

 

Ben feels a knot of pain within him. Because he loved Jess, in a way. But more than that. There’s trepidation in his heart, that old flare of uncertainty and low self-worth.

 

‘What if I’m not enough for them?’ he whispers.

 

But Jess shrugs. ‘You’re enough, Ben. You’ve always been enough.’

 

Ben packs a bag. Ben gets his passport. 

 

Ben boards a plane to Australia.

 

And as the aircraft clears the cloud, he feels something odd, something new, deep within.

 

He is whole. He is well. He is content.

 

He is enough. 

  
  
  



	22. Epilogue Four: A Line in the Sand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the woman who beta’d early versions of this work passed away. Cancer of the unknown primary, four months after diagnosis. I keep meaning to post more, but I also keep crying, so it might take me awhile. Bear with me, I hope. That HEA is just around the corner now.

It’s early evening when Ben finally arrives in Takodana, South Australia. His body is tired and his mind feels bruised; in the last week he’s flown halfway around the world twice and as a result, he no longer has a discernible grip on what day or time it is. He’s grabbed rest here and there where he can, sleeping upright in an uncomfortable economy seat on the flight to Sydney, and then again on the bus journey to Takodana. He’s eaten bland airplane food, a gelatinous mush washed down with weak coffee, and shaved briefly over a sink in Sydney airport. There are dark circles under his eyes, cutting into the alabaster white of his skin, while his clothes are sadly crumpled and hanging from his frame.

 

Quite frankly, he looks and feels like shit. 

 

He debates with himself whether or not to check into a hotel and clean-up before seeing Rey. He’s desperate to see her, to see Havi... so desperate that his stomach clenches with longing everytime he thinks of them. And he wants them both to see him at his best. Not as he currently is: tired beyond belief, the smell of travel and recycled air on his skin, a hastily-packed bag slung over his shoulder.

 

But the nearest hotel to Takodana is, Ben blearily recalls, a good two hour drive away. 

 

And that, to Ben, is unacceptable.

 

He’s already lost nearly three years with them.

 

He won’t add any more time to that tally. 

 

Not a single God-damn minute.

 

So Ben decides to stay in town and make the trek to the airport on foot. Rey’s probably gone home for the evening, but there’s nothing else he can do. He has no idea where she lives, but he knows where she works. And even if it means sleeping in the dusty airport terminal overnight, he’ll do it. 

 

He’s used to waiting, after all.

 

He’s been waiting for years now, and his patience is honed, like a finely-tuned instrument playing the most bittersweet of music.

 

The terminal is empty though, the control tower locked. The airport looks all but abandoned for the night, and Ben sighs, running a hand through his hair and over his tired eyes. Sleeping in the terminal, at this point, looks like a pipe dream. More than likely he’ll be sleeping on the dusty concrete outside.

 

And then he sees it. 

 

A light in the distance, flickering out from the windows of a corrugated iron shed. No, not a shed, Ben realises.

 

A hangar.

 

A hangar, filled with light.

 

His heart in his throat, he walks towards the bright spot on the horizon. His footsteps pad quietly through the brown dust and yellowed grass while the sky turns pink and orange and azure all around him. And when he reaches the doorway, he stops.

 

He stops, and another missing part of his soul is filled.

 

Because there, sitting cross-legged under the harsh strip lighting, with her hair pulled back and wearing an oil-stained pair of overalls, is Rey. She’s tinkering with an engine part, muttering under her breath at it, an array of tools by her side. But she looks up when Ben’s shadow falls over her, her eyes growing wide and her cheeks falling pale. She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out.  

 

‘You said you’d be waiting in the light,’ Ben says, his voice no more than a whisper.

 

And then.

 

And then.

 

And then, Rey stands. 

 

She wipes her hands on her overalls. She moves towards him. She stands before him, tentatively reaching a single hand to his cheek. It lingers, just for a moment, in the air between them. Balancing just a hair-breadths away from him, so that he can feel the warmth and electricity emanating from her palm. 

 

She closes the gap, laying her fingers upon him. And the touch of her skin against his is like an absolution, a holy moment. It calls to something inside him, drawing forth forgiveness and peace and light and balance. He closes his eyes, leaning into her touch, closing a hand around hers. 

 

They stand like this, the sun setting behind them, for a long time. They breathe each other in and absorb each other’s presence, until Ben feels dizzy and punch-drunk solely from her presence.

 

When he opens his eyes, Rey is staring at him. She’s crying, her cheeks wet with tears.

 

‘You came back,’ she says, and there is joy in her voice. ‘You came back for us.’

 

‘Rey,’ he replies, opening his mouth to speak. Opening his mouth to explain. Opening his mouth, as though words were necessary and not superfluous in this moment. 

 

He wants to tell her that he’s okay now.

 

He wants to tell her that he’s missed her.

 

He wants to tell her that he loves her.

 

He wants to tell her everything.

 

But instead he pulls her towards him, wrapping his arms around her, burrowing his head into her neck. 

 

‘Rey,’ he says again, letting her name linger in the air between them, the sweetest sound he has heard or will ever hear again. ‘My Rey,’ he says softly, his fingers gripping her as tightly as she is holding him.

 

It is but a name. Only a word. Just a single exhalation emptied into the air around them.

 

But it is also an apology and a story and a promise all in one breath. 

 

An apology and a story and promise she immediately returns.

 

‘Ben,’ she breathes back. ‘Ben. My Ben.’

 

***

 

They lie together on the floor of her hangar, an old coat beneath them, their fingers intertwined. Rey’s head is upon his shoulder, and Ben feels a deep contentment purr within him at the familiar scent and feel of her against his skin. She’s turned off the harsh strip lighting in favour of a less offensive sidelight, and in the hazy glow Ben feels tired, his eyes fluttering shut. 

 

‘You’ve travelled far?’ Rey asks, her voice light, and Ben’s fingers curl tightly against her hip.

 

‘Mmm,’ he murmurs in agreement. ‘Took me three years to get back here to your arms.’

 

He feels rather than sees Rey smile against his shirt. 

 

‘I meant today,’ she adds. ‘To Takodana.’

 

Ben shrugs. At this point, with Rey in his arms, time and distance have ceased to have any sort of relevance to him. 

 

‘Twice around the world in one week,’ he exhales easily, as if it were no real matter. ‘And I’d go twice more again if you asked it of me.’

 

Now Rey’s fingers tighten across him, clenching his shirt and holding him close. ‘I won’t,’ she tells him. ‘I like you just where you are right now.’

 

Ben exhales again, happiness seeping from every pore. The heat of the day has faded into a gentle warmth, and it would be easy, he knows, to close his eyes and fall asleep right here. 

 

But he wants more time with her like this. He wants just a few more moments wrapped against her, cushioned on a soft coat, the humid Australian air warming and thick.

 

‘Tell me about you,’ he says softly, his eyes still closed. ‘Tell me what your life is like these days.’

 

Rey gives a small laugh. ‘There isn’t much to tell. Not really. I work here as an engineer. I kind of like it. It’s mainly agricultural aircraft and small bi-planes, but occasionally we get something bigger drift through. The runway here is around six thousand feet so we can handle larger aircraft-’

 

‘Like a Comet,’ Ben interrupts, and Rey laughs again.

 

‘Yes. Like a Comet,’ she glances up at him coyly. ‘We had one through here not long ago, actually. Fan blade problems.’

 

‘Strange,’ Ben replies. ‘I fly a Comet. It had some fan blade issues not long back too.’

 

Rey smiles, and Ben squeezes her tightly. ‘Tell me more,’ he requests.

 

‘I live in a small house just on the outskirts of town. Two bedrooms. I share one room with Havi, while Finn has the other. I’d like something bigger,’ Rey sighs. ‘Havi kicks at night and when she isn’t kicking she tosses and turns. But the cost would be astronomical and she’s still so little. It’s strange. She drives me crazy but when I’m not around her I miss her like crazy.’

 

Ben swallows down a painful lump. He knows all about missing Havi.

 

He opens his eyes to look down at Rey. ‘You could’ve requested money from your trust fund,’ he says gently. ‘It’s your money. You didn’t have to struggle.’

 

But Rey shakes her head. ‘I didn’t want to touch the money for two reasons. The first is that I guess I wanted to prove something to myself. I wanted to see if I could do it alone. My mother and I...’ Rey swallows. ‘I ended up just like her in the end. An Omega, pregnant in her teens and Alpha-less. She tried her best- at least I think she did. But she ended up latched onto a man who only wanted to hurt her and that ended up hurting me. So, when Havi came along I decided to try going it alone myself. To prove that it could be done. Only I knew I would never let anyone hurt me, or hurt Havi. And I’ve done it, Ben. I’ve survived these past few years without anyone to prop me up.’

 

He smiles at her. ‘I’m proud of you,’ he says honestly.

 

Rey nods. ‘I am too,’ she admits. ‘Proud of myself, I mean. I’ve done little in my life to be proud of, you know. But I had Havi on my own and I’ve raised her on my own and she’s turning out okay. No. Better than okay. She’s perfect.’

 

Even without being told, Ben knew that. He sighs, pressing a kiss to the top of Rey’s head. ‘What was the second reason?’ he suddenly asks. ‘What was the other thing that stopped you from taking your money?’

 

Rey pauses, her eyes flickering away from his. ‘You’re a signatory on the account,’ she says, her voice brittle. ‘I knew if I made a request for money, you’d have come to find me. To find us.’

 

Ben licks his lips anxiously. ‘Would that have been so bad?’

 

‘You needed help,’ Rey shrugs. ‘And you couldn’t get that help with a wife and child attached. You wouldn’t have been good for Havi, the way you were, Ben. You weren’t good for me then either.’ She glanced up to look him direct in the eye. ‘I meant what I said, Ben. I wasn’t going to be my mother all over again. I wasn’t going to attach myself to a man who would hurt me. And you would’ve hurt me, Ben. Eventually you would. Not physically, of course, but emotionally...’ Rey sighs again, once more holding tight to his waist. ‘I loved you, but it wasn’t enough. Not back then.’

 

‘And now?’ Ben asks, his voice betraying the worry he feels deep inside.

 

Rey nestles closer to him, but she doesn’t reply for a long moment. When she finally speaks, her words are delicately chosen, and it’s clear to Ben that she has thought about this carefully.

 

‘When you were here before, on the Comet, there was a girl with you. An Omega.’

 

Ben inhales sharply. 

 

‘Who was she?’ Rey asks, her fingers clutching and releasing at his waist, a gentle pressure on his skin.

 

‘Jessika,’ he replies. ‘A pilot.’

 

‘No,’ Rey shakes her head. ‘Who was she to  _ you?’ _

 

_ ‘ _ Someone,’ he breathes out. ‘She was someone to me.’

 

‘How long was she someone to you?’ There’s curiosity in Rey’s voice, but no accusation, and Ben closes his eyes again.

 

‘Over a year,’ he replies truthfully. ‘But we were only... well, it only became something more about six months ago.’

 

‘Where is she now?’

 

‘The States,’ Ben says. ‘And Rey... she’s not someone to me anymore.’

 

Rey nods silently.

 

‘What about you?’ Ben asks. ‘Did you get married, in the end?’

 

Now it's Rey’s turn to inhale sharply. 

 

‘Who told you about that?’ She demands.

 

Ben squeezes her gently. ‘I’m not angry,’ he says. ‘I don’t have any rights here, I know that. I just want to know.’

 

‘No,’ Rey’s voice is clear. ‘No, I didn’t get married.’

 

‘Were you going to?’

 

Rey shakes her head. ‘He asked me,’ she replies. ‘But it just... it didn’t feel right. I don’t know how to explain it. The first few months with him were... pleasant. It was nice to be with someone uncomplicated. It was nice to pretend I was just a girl seeing a boy. It was nice to do normal things like a normal person would. Dates, movies, sleeping in on a Sunday morning. But then I would go home to Havi and she would look up at me with your face and...’ Rey sighs, her voice trailing away.

 

‘It’s okay,’ Ben says gently. ‘You don’t have to tell me.’

 

But Rey sits up, looking down at him with soft eyes, a sad expression on her face. ‘I guess I was waiting for you. For all of a minute I thought about saying yes to him. I thought about giving up on you. But I knew... I just knew that one day you would walk back into my life. I just never thought that when you did it would be by accident, and that it would be your girlfriend who told me all about you.’

 

Rey’s voice breaks a little on the last word, and she hitches back a sob. Ben sits up too, wrapping his arm around her and hauling her against him.

 

‘Hey,’ he says, his tone gentle but firm. ‘As soon as I found you,’ he says fervently, ‘she stopped being  _ someone  _ in my life. As soon as I found you, I only wanted to be here with you. Why would I want just a someone in my life when I could have you? You’re everything to me, Rey. You’re my everything and my forever and you always will be. And she knew that too. But even if she hadn’t, I would still be here with you. Because I’m always going to choose you, Rey. You and Havi will always be first for me. That’s just the way it is, Rey. That’s just the way it's always going to be.’

 

Rey brushes a tear from her cheek. ‘It was just the disappointment. Of seeing you again, and then seeing  _ her  _ take your hand beside you. I’d waited so long and...’

 

She cries again, and Ben embraces her harder.

 

‘I know,’ he says. ‘I’m sorry.’

 

‘No,’ Rey shakes her head. ‘No, don’t be sorry for claiming a little happiness in your life. Don’t be sorry for having her in your life.’

 

‘I’m not,’ Ben says honestly. ‘I’m not sorry for having her. She was good and kind and patient and she grounded me even when we were flying the skies together. I’m not sorry for her. But I am sorry you’re hurting because of her.’

 

Rey stifles back another sob, nodding even as she wipes again at her cheeks. ‘I don’t want to talk about the hard things anymore,’ she says, her voice small.

 

‘We have to eventually,’ Ben whispers.

 

‘I know,’ Rey agrees. ‘But not right now.’

 

Ben collapses back onto the floor, pulling Rey with him and tucking her once again into his arms. ‘Alright. Tell me about Havi,’ he suggests, trying to keep the longing from his voice.

 

Rey laughs through her tears. ‘Oh God, that could take all night. She’s a handful.’

 

‘Tell me about the day she was born,’ Ben says. ‘I missed it.’

 

Rey nods. ‘I’ve never felt such pain,’ she begins. ‘It was hideous. I thought I was going to be sick or faint or die all at once. They kept telling me I was doing well- the midwives, that is- but I was young and stupid and hadn’t read any of the books or prepared myself at all and had no idea what to expect or do,’ she pauses, squeezing his fingers. ‘I called for you,’ she admits. ‘I really wanted you then.’

 

‘I wish I had been there,’ Ben feels a painful pressure behind his eyes, but he blinks it away. This is Rey’s story and about her pain. It isn’t about him or what he missed.

 

‘She was quick,’ Rey carries on. ‘Two hours of labour and forty-eight minutes of pushing. And then they held up this purple, squalling thing for me to look at. And then they put her on my chest and they wiped her face and right before my eyes she turned pink. And she opened these big eyes to look at me and I nearly let her slide right off. Because she looked so much like you, Ben. So much like you. They took her away to weigh her and clean her and when they brought her back they’d put this pink blanket around her, and this hat over her head. I still have them,’ Rey smiles. ‘They’re in a box of her baby things I have at home.’

 

‘Show me one day,’ Ben says, and Rey nods.

 

‘Yes. The hat was supposed to be for a boy. It had all these cartoon airplanes dotted around the edge. The midwives kept apologising, told me that they’d run out of girl things, but it didn’t bother me. I decided it was a sign. That’s when I decided to call her Havilland.’

 

‘I like it,’ Ben tells her. He clears his throat, looks down at her. ‘Did you... did you tell her about me at all? I’ll understand if you didn’t, I mean- I know it would’ve been hard and... but I just want to know. I know I don’t have any rights here, and I can’t make any demands, but if you...’

 

‘Ben,’ Rey raises a hand and lays a finger against his lips. ‘Ben, we talk about you every single day. We talk about your black house in Utah. We talk about your work. We talk about how you took me to the ocean and how you built planes in your back garden. We talk about you all the time.’

 

Ben releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He feels a smile erupting over his face. ‘God,’ he exhales. ‘I hate that I’ve missed so much.’

 

‘Mmm,’ Rey agrees. ‘I didn’t have a picture to give her though. Everything I found on the internet had...’ Rey pauses. ‘Had your wife in them. I couldn’t give  _ that  _ to our daughter. She doesn’t mind, not having a picture though. She asked where you were though. I told her you were flying planes in the sky. She loves airplanes.’

 

‘Han’s granddaughter,’ Ben says, his mouth dry.

 

‘Your daughter, too,’ Rey adds with a small smile. ‘Sometimes at her pre-school the other children can be... unkind,’ Rey says the word slowly, and Ben can hear the pain beneath it. ‘It’s still quite rural here, quite conservative in a way. The other children ask Havi why she doesn’t have a Daddy, like they all do. She drew a picture of an airplane in the sky, took it to show and tell. And whenever she sees a commercial airliner in the sky, even just a dot thousands of feet above us, she’ll get so excited and wave her little hands at it and shout ‘Hello Daddy,’ and I just nod and...’

 

And Rey’s crying again now, and so is he. Because there’s something heartbreakingly pathetic about a small child waving at a cold hunk of steel in the sky, thinking of a father she’s never known.

 

Rey sees his tears. ‘She’s only three, Ben. She won’t remember any of this.’

 

It’s a cold sort of comfort to him. ‘But I will,’ he moans. ‘I’ll never forgive myself for not being there for you. For not being there for  _ her.  _ You said you felt like your mother all over again. Well, I feel like a repeat of my father. Absent, a failure, and fucked up. I’ll never forgive myself for this.’

 

But Rey shakes her head. ‘You have to,’ she tells him. ‘You and I- we both have to move forward. What’s done is done, Ben. There’s no going back. Remember? You once told me to stop holding on. You need to do the same. We need to let the past go. To stop letting it shape the future.  _ Our  _ future,’ she adds.

 

Ben shakes his head. ‘I don’t even know how to begin with that.  _ Where  _ to begin in fact. The clinic... my therapist. They told me this would be hard. But they have no idea. I had no idea. How do you start everything again? Where do you draw a line and say, ‘there, that’s it, that’s the end of that’ and move on?’

 

Rey hugs him closely, brushing the hair from his eyes. ‘By not drawing a line at the end, I suppose, but looking at it as the beginning.’

 

Ben sighs. ‘A new start. A line in the sand to begin again.’

 

Rey nods, and when he looks down at her, he can see the dark of her lashes against her cheeks. ‘Ben,’ she says. ‘Let’s draw a line in the sand.’

 

‘Yes,’ he agrees without thinking.

 

‘Ben,’ now Rey sits up again. ‘Ben, it’s a start point, this line.’ 

 

‘Yes.’

 

‘A new start, for us both.’ She nods as she looks at him intently. ‘Ben. Ben, I think it’s time for you to meet Havi.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly there. Maybe next week for the last part.x


	23. Tears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You’ll note the chapter count has gone up.
> 
> The reasons are simple. 
> 
> I rewrote the last chapter over the past two days. Life, I’ve decided, is too short for unhappy endings. So I went back over all my original angst and made some changes. 
> 
> This chapter in its original form was 10,000 words long. So I’ve chopped it in half as well as stripped and rewritten massive sections.
> 
> Also, I believe in bookending. So chapter 25 is a bonus Rey POV chapter to bookend the first half of this fic. 
> 
> I cried several times while writing this chapter, and I am without a beta currently (cries more) so you’ll have to forgive any grammatical/spelling errors.

_ They’re going to have a party for his fifth birthday. A real-life, actual birthday party, with cake and candles and games and everything. _

 

_ They’ve talked about it for weeks now, bought balloons and streamers and invited all the children from his kindergarten. A clown is coming- but he’s the good kind, not the scary kind, his Mommy promises- and a magician, and Ben is so excited his little lungs can hardly breathe. _

 

_ A party. A real-life birthday party, just for him. _

 

_ But at the last minute, his mother’s flight from Mexico City is delayed and then she can’t make her connecting flight from Atlanta, so awkward phone calls are made, children are let down gently, and little Ben Solo goes to bed with hot tears of disappointment on his cheeks. _

 

_ It’s a little past three in the morning when his Mommy tiptoes into his room, kissing him quietly on the forehead. She doesn’t mean to wake him, but he rouses anyway, flinging an arm around his mother and breathing in deeply of her. She smells like stale coffee, travel, and tiredness, but underneath it all she smells of Mommy, and he nestles in close to her side. _

 

_ ‘I’m so sorry, baby,’ she says mournfully, but Ben shakes his head. _

 

_ ‘I saved you cake,’ he says. ‘They were going to throw it away, but I saved you a slice.’ _

 

_ From under his pillow he produces a slab of chocolate cake. It’s squashed and misshapen and wrapped in a star-print napkin which is stuck to the icing, but she takes it from his hands with apparent delight and smiles.  _

 

_ ‘Want me to sing you happy birthday?’ _

 

_ ‘No, it’s okay,’ he shakes his head. ‘The servants already did earlier.’ _

 

_ She closes her eyes at that, biting her lip. ‘Did you at least make a wish?’ She whispers. Her face is drawn, her body tense, and Ben leans up to kiss her cheek. _

 

_ ‘Yes,’ he whispers shyly. _

 

_ ‘Want to tell me?’ She asks, before laughing. ‘No, don’t. It might not come true then.’ _

 

_ ‘But it already did, Mommy,’ he explains. She looks at him curiously, and he hugs her again. ‘I wished that you would come home, and now you’re here.’ _

 

_ ‘Oh, baby-’ _

 

_ ‘It’s good news, isn't it Mommy? Wishes really do come true, if you make them hard enough.’ _

 

_ For his fifth birthday, Ben Solo learns that sometimes he makes his mother cry.  _

 

_ *** _

 

_ He wants a bike for his eighth birthday, he’s decided. And not just any bike, but a Ninja Turtles bike, just like Armitage Hux has. Ben’s thought about it a lot, and come to the conclusion that a bike is definitely a better idea than anything else. _

 

_ His Mom is real busy most of the time, so Ben helpfully circles the right picture in the catalogue before passing it to her assistant. Just in case, he also makes sure to mention it again and again whenever he gets a chance to speak to his Mom on the phone.  _

 

_ ‘Got it, you like the turtles,’ she says one evening, her voice tinny and broken with static.  _

 

_ She’s in Columbia at the moment, or is it Venezuela? It doesn’t matter, he supposes. Far away is far away, and Ben’s grown used to her frequent absences. _

 

_ ‘Always off changing the world,’ his father muses, not entirely pleasantly. _

 

_ His mother misses his birthday dinner because of a landslide somewhere in Asia. The Skywalker family own most of the land affected and Leia wants to avoid any negative publicity. But it's okay, because his Dad, Chewie, and Senora Threepio make him pizza and ice-cream, and he’s getting his bike later, which means he can go riding with Armitage tomorrow.  _

 

_ But when his mother comes home late that night she presents him with a chess set. It’s black, white and clinically shiny, and attached to it is a Ninja Turtles birthday card. _

 

_ ‘Always think four steps ahead, baby,’ she tells him with a smile, and he smiles back, even though his heart is a little broken inside and he really, really wanted that bike. _

 

_ The next morning, his Dad wakes him early, just as the sun is rising. _

 

_ ‘Forget the bike,’ he says, ‘I’m taking you flying today.’ _

 

_ He spends the day down at the hangar with his Dad and Chewie, and Han takes him for an hour’s flight across the county in a De Havilland Mosquito he’s been reconditioning for the last three years. The clouds are white and wispy and the sky is blue as a sapphire and Ben feels a rush like he’s never felt before. _

 

_ When they touchdown at sunset, his mother is waiting, and she’s furious. _

 

_ ‘You took him up in that wooden pile of crap?’ She seethes, but Han only shakes his head in disgust. _

 

_ ‘You bought him a fucking chess set?’  _

 

_ Chewie makes a noise, covering Ben’s ears and leading him up the path towards the Big House. But Ben can hear his parents screaming at each other the whole way. _

 

_ For his eighth birthday, Ben learns that sometimes his father makes his mother cry. _

 

_ *** _

 

_ He spends his fifteenth birthday in his school’s office, an expulsion notice clutched in his hand. He was caught defacing school property at ten am, his eighteenth infringement this term, and at two pm Leia finally arrives, with a glare for him and a pocketful of cash for the principal. But this time, Mr. Yoda holds up his hands. _

 

_ ‘I’m afraid we cannot accept anymore reparation funding from you, Mrs. Solo. The boy is simply too much for us. Too volatile. Too angry. Too fearful, even. With regret, I heartily suggest you find an alternative place of education for him.’ _

 

_ ‘My son cannot have an expulsion on his record,’ Leia says firmly. ‘It would damage my political ambitions. There must be another way.’ _

 

_ Ben spends another hour on a cold plastic chair while his mother and the principal wrangle out an agreement. A receptionist brings him orange juice, and Ben can’t understand why her eyes linger on his lips as he drinks it. It’s only when he’s finished, the citrus taste receding from his lips, that he smells her; distinct, promising, even ripe... Omega. _

 

_ As they drive home, he stares sullenly out of the window, while Leia taps her fingers irritably against the cold leather seats. _

 

_ ‘I bought you one more term, enough to finish the school year,’ she says coolly. ‘Then you’re going to Luke, who will make sure that-’ _

 

_ ‘What?’ Ben turns to his mother in horror. ‘What? Uncle Luke?’ _

 

_ ‘Yes,’ Leia says calmly. ‘He’s a good influence, plus he knows how to deal with emerging Alphas. You’ll be in good hands.’ _

 

_ ‘What does Dad say?’ Ben blurts out. _

 

_ ‘It doesn’t matter what he says,’ Leia replies. ‘It’s my decision. You can’t spend all of your time down at that bloody hangar, fixing and flying airplanes. Don’t you know who you are? What your bloodline means? I have high hopes for you, Ben. Don’t let me down again.’ _

 

_ At no point that day does his mother wish him a happy birthday, and before he goes to bed, Ben stares at himself in the mirror. His body is tall and strong, growing longer and larger everyday, while his eyes are wide, filled with self-doubt, self-loathing and tears he refuses to cry. _

 

_ Because for his fifteenth birthday, Ben learns that crying is pointless, nothing but an exercise in waste and self-indulgence. _

 

_ *** _

 

_ He wakes on his twenty-first birthday with Alexandra on one side and some random Omega on the other. Alex is asleep, heavy on his shoulder, and it occurs to him that she might yet be out of it on Starkiller. He can’t be sure, and his head is too fucked up to care. He shrugs her off, and the small noise of protest she makes should be reassuring, but strangely isn’t.  _

 

_ Sometimes he thinks he’s waiting to wake one morning and find her dead.  _

 

_ Sometimes he thinks he even hopes that might happen. _

 

_ He sits up, running a hand through his hair, rubbing the sleep and residual drugs from his eyes. It’s then that he feels the Omega tense beside him, and he looks down at her. _

 

_ She’s wide-eyed, looking up at him with trepidation. Her skin glows in the early morning light, and her hair is like spun silk on the sheets. _

 

_ She’s beautiful, Ben realises. Except for her eyes, which radiate with fear and uncertainty, she’s beautiful. _

 

_ And that bothers Ben. _

 

_ It bothers him a lot. _

 

_ ‘Come on,’ he whispers, extending a hand and pulling her from the bed. _

 

_ Together they go through to the kitchen, where he makes the Omega a coffee and watches her nibble at some toast. Less than six hours ago this girl was panting and writhing under his knot, and now she’s sitting there primly, like a fucking stranger.  _

 

_ It bothers him. _

 

_ ‘Tell me something about you,’ he says, but his tone is unwittingly all Alpha, and the Omega dutifully nods. _

 

_ ‘My name is-’ _

 

_ ‘No,’ Ben interrupts. ‘Tell me something no one else knows.’ _

 

_ The girl thinks for a moment, putting down her toast. Her eyes are wide with fear again, and he clears his throat. _

 

_ ‘Please,’ he adds, and it feels like a victory when she smiles. _

 

_ ‘I don’t like bubbles,’ she says, and he stops, his coffee halfway to his mouth. _

 

_ ‘Bubbles?’ _

 

_ ‘Yeah,’ the girl replies, shifting in her seat. ‘You know, like bath bubbles, or the kind you get at parties or...’ _

 

_ ‘I know what fucking bubbles are,’ he grins. ‘I’m just waiting for the explanation.’ _

 

_ She shrugs. ‘They’re just so... temporary. The whole time I look at them, I’m just waiting for them to pop, for it all to be over. I guess they kind of remind me of how fleeting life is. How short, you know? They creep me out.’ _

 

_ He nods. He doesn’t think he’ll look at bubbles in the same way ever again. _

 

_ ‘Tell me something about you?’ The Omega requests, and he looks at her oddly. _

 

_ No one ever asks about him. _

 

_ ‘What do you want to know?’ His voice is cautious, almost hesitant. _

 

_ ‘Something no one else does,’ she suggests, picking up her toast again. _

 

_ He doesn’t have to think long. ‘It's my birthday today.’ _

 

_ The Omega shakes her head at him, a genuine smile now on her lips. ‘Well, happy birthday.’ _

 

_ ‘What did you say your name was, Bubbles?’ _

 

_ ‘I didn’t. But it’s Hosnia.’ _

 

_ He smiles. ‘Bubbles is better.’ _

 

_ ‘Sorry I don’t have a birthday gift for you,’ Hosnia adds. _

 

_ ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Ben replies. ‘I never get what I want anyway.’ _

 

_ But Hosnia surprises him. She leads him to the sofa, strips her t-shirt over her head and rides him until he’s crying out in pleasure beneath her. _

 

_ When it’s nearly done, and she’s lying sated against his shoulder, still clinging to his knot, he looks to the kitchen door and sees Alexandra standing there, a look of absolute fury on her face. But as soon as Alex notices Ben looking at her while she looks at them, her face changes. Suddenly, she’s soft and tearful. _

 

_ The perfect picture of the betrayed woman. _

 

_ For his twenty-first birthday, Ben learns that tears are cheap, a choice weapon to wound the sentimental and weak. _

 

_ *** _

 

_ On his thirty-first birthday Rey takes him flying. _

 

_ He doesn’t even understand how she knows it’s his birthday. Certainly he never told her, and he never receives cards or gifts in the run-up to the day anymore. _

 

_ The only people who might have sent him a card or a gift are dead, after all. There’s no one to remember. No one to know. _

 

_ But Rey knows, taking his hand in the kitchen and pressing a shy kiss to his cheek. When she steps back, her eyes are soft but curious. _

 

_ ‘Is it okay? My touching you, like that?’ _

 

_ Ben touches her all the time. He can’t help it. Rey is like honey on his fingers and he needs to touch and feel and just be near her just to stay sane. But she never touches him, not first at least. There’s too much Omega in her, and it goes against her biology to instigate affection with an Alpha. This birthday kiss on the cheek is a big deal for her. _

 

_ And for him too, he realises, as warmth spreads through his body at the memory of her lips on his skin. _

 

_ If he were her Alpha it would be different. If he were her Alpha, if he were allowed to kiss and fuck and mate her, it would be different. Then she would touch him all the time, and he would encourage and revel in her nearness. _

 

_ But he isn’t her Alpha, he reminds himself bitterly. He’s her brother, and as such, a chaste kiss on the cheek is all he should expect from her. _

 

_ But he can’t help himself. He leans towards her, brushing his lips against her cheek, his body singing with pleasure at the feel of her against him. _

 

_ ‘You can touch me anytime you like... you know that, Rey.’ _

 

_ She blushes, before reaching up to brush the hair from his eyes. _

 

_ ‘Happy birthday,’ she whispers, and he smiles at her shyness.  _

 

_ They jump in the Aviat after breakfast and fly. Rey’s good, definitely a natural in the pilot seat. But Ben is better, and after sitting in his seat for what feels like a lifetime, twitching to be in control of the plane, he begs her to land so they can swap. _

 

_ ‘It was only an hour, Ben,’ she complains as they switch places. _

 

_ ‘Come on,’ he grins at her, ‘Whose birthday is it again?’  _

 

_ She rolls her eyes at him, jumping into the passenger seat. But she says nothing when he takes off with textbook execution, or when he rolls the plane to one side, eliciting a shout of excitement from her. It’s only when they land, back at a Mustafar, that she shrugs at him, leaning back on the wall. _

 

_ ‘Fine, I’ll say it,’ she says with a sigh. ‘You’re a better pilot than me.’ _

 

_ ‘You’re the better engineer,’ he replies easily. _

 

_ ‘We make a good team,’ Rey smiles, and Ben feels his heart quicken in his chest. _

 

_ He leans beside her, one side pressed to hers, the smell of her body so tantalisingly close. Without looking at her, he laces his fingers through hers, locking their hands together. _

 

_ He pretends not to hear her breathy sigh. _

 

_ He pretends not to feel the ready submission of her body. _

 

_ He pretends not to feel whatever the fuck this is he’s feeling for his sister. _

 

_ ‘We are a good team,’ he whispers. _

 

_ ‘Ben,’ Rey replies, a crack in her voice. ‘What is this? What is this between us?’ _

 

_ But he hasn’t got an answer for her.  _

 

_ All he knows is that he has to touch her.  _

 

_ He runs his free hand over the curve of her shoulder, and her eyes flutter close. He crowds her against the wall, ducking his head to hers. She doesn’t open her eyes, doesn’t look at him. But she tilts her head towards his, offering him her neck. _

 

_ Quiet submission. _

 

_ He inhales deeply, before kissing the pulse point of her neck. He paints her skin with feather-light kisses before licking a stripe up to her ear. She tastes like hope and freedom and seawater, sweet and salty all at once, and he moans into her ear. _

 

_ Her eyes are still closed when she twists her head, offering him the other side. _

 

_ And he’s too far gone to refuse such a gift. _

 

_ He isn’t sure how long he spends licking and marking Rey’s neck and shoulders. But at one point her legs must give, because suddenly they’re on the floor, and he’s kneeling over her. _

 

_ Rey’s hands at one point drift to her shirt, and she’s pulling at the buttons, wanting more of his touch and more of his scent and more of his mark. Somewhere inside him, buried under all his biology, his logical side begs to be heard. _

 

_ ‘Don’t do this,’ he tells himself. ‘Don’t do this to her too.’ _

 

_ But Rey’s shirt is open, and now his hands are on her, tracing curves and pale skin with fingers that tremble with suppressed want while she writhes on the floor.  _

 

_ ‘Alpha, please-’ _

 

_ It’s Rey’s use of his designation rather than his name that springs him from his self-made prison of lust. He staggers back from her as though slapped, panting heavily, hating himself and his damned biology.  _

 

_ She opens her eyes.  _

 

_ ‘I can’t,’ he tells her helplessly. ‘I won’t do this to you.’ _

 

_ She covers herself quickly, biting her lip.  _

 

_ She doesn’t cry, for which he’s glad. If she cries, he won’t be able to stop himself from comforting her. And if he touches her again now, he won’t be able to stop. Instead, he watches as Rey gets up, heading to the house without a backwards glance in his direction. _

 

_ And so, Ben learns for his thirty-first birthday that tears are earned. _

 

_ And he hasn’t earned Rey’s tears.  _

 

_ Not now. Not yet. Not ever, he prays.  _

 

_ ‘I don’t want to hurt her,’ he whispers, into the silence of the desert. _

 

_ *** _

 

_ He celebrates Havi’s first birthday alone in his room in the clinic.  _

 

_ He steals an extra piece of cake from the cafe, slipping it into his pocket when the warden isn’t looking. Not that it even matters. They normally search pockets for hidden knives, sharp forks, or lengths of cloth. Things that the clinic’s ‘guests’ might use to end their lives, or hurt others.  _

 

_ This piece of cake is technically harmless.  _

 

_ After all, the only person he’s hurting with this piece of cake is himself. _

 

_ That night, he puts it on his nightstand and sings a soft rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ into the quiet of his room. There are no candles to light, no flames to extinguish, but he closes his eyes and makes a wish anyway.  _

 

_ No, not a wish. A vow. _

 

_ A vow that one day, he will be there for her birthday. _

 

_ He will be there, and it will be her best birthday ever. _

 

_ He falls asleep with the cake clutched in his hand, Havi’s increasingly worn picture by his side, the memory of Rey’s kiss in his skin and a trail of tears on his cheeks. _

 

_ Because, on his daughter’s first birthday, Ben learns that tears can be real, and that they can hurt. _

 

_ *** _

 

Rey’s home is small and practical and unattractive. There’s a patch of dry grass, a few sun chairs and a table next to a box of toys out front. The windows are open, white net curtains ruffling in the evening breeze, and a lamp out front flickers occasionally. 

 

She looks up at him as she parks in the drive, gauging his reaction to her home, to  _ his daughter’s  _ home, and he hides the sudden flare of disappointment and disdain that he feels.

 

‘It isn’t much,’ Rey says quietly. ‘But she’s never known better.’

 

Ben thinks of the Big House, of the crystal clear pool and the pristine emerald lawns. He thinks of Mustafar, with it's large, airy rooms and state-of-the-art facilities. Homes that he could give to Rey and their child. Homes that would be worthy of them both.

 

No, not homes. Not homes. They’re houses, but not homes. He thinks again of the Big House, a place so impersonal they never bothered to name it. A palatial existence for a small child, wanton in it's excess. And then he thinks of Rey’s first home, of that damp and mouldy shitty flat in London, wanton in it's depravity. The only thing both places shared was the neglect of it's children. 

 

And so Ben breathes, looking at the home Rey has chosen for their child, and thinking that maybe she has the right idea. For this home is clean and comfortable and he knows Havi is loved and cared for.

 

‘Ready?’ Rey asks. ‘She’ll probably be asleep, but you can take a look at her and then meet her in the morning.’

 

Suddenly, she blushes.

 

‘There’s only two rooms, so you’ll have to take the sofa. I sleep in bed with Havi and I can’t ask Finn to give up his room for you.’

 

‘I was prepared to sleep at the airport,’ Ben replies lightly. ‘The sofa will be fine, thank you.’

 

‘Okay,’ she gets out of the car, stretching her arms over her head. ‘Come on then.’

 

He wipes his feet on the doormat as Rey unlocks the door, even though his shoes are clean and Rey hasn’t done the same. His heart is unaccountably beating rapidly in his chest, and his palms feel damp and sweaty.

 

Finn is sitting in the living room, and his eyes grow wide when he sees Ben crowding their small space.

 

‘Jesus,’ Finn swears under his breath.

 

‘We’ll talk about this later, Finn,’ Rey says immediately, in the tone that Ben knows means business.

 

‘Rey-’

 

‘We’ll talk about this later,’ Rey says again, her voice firmer now.

 

Finn shakes his head, almost in disbelief, but he says nothing. The scent in the room shifts slightly though, and Ben feels a tendril of anger in his stomach. This Alpha’s scent is all over this house and getting stronger, and it should be his scent, his smell, his authority...

 

Abruptly, Rey takes his hand, squeezing it lightly. It’s only a small motion, just an Omega comforting her Alpha, but it calms him instantly.

 

‘It’s nice to see you again,’ he says to Finn quietly, but Finn remains tight-lipped.

 

‘Come on,’ Rey pulls on his hand, towards a doorway to their left.

 

It’s then that Finn stands, his chest puffed out, his shoulders straight.

 

‘She’s asleep,’ Finn’s voice is hard. ‘Don’t wake her. Not for him.’

 

‘He’s just going to look at her,’ Rey says. Her voice is quiet, and Ben knows she’s doing her best to stay and keep calm. Two Alphas in close confines and at odds can be immensely dangerous, and he knows she’s worried about the safety of her child.

 

No, not her child.  _ Their  _ child.

 

Ben takes a deep breath. He has to be the bigger person here. For Havi, if nothing else.

 

‘I can wait until the morning,’ he offers, although his insides cramp painfully at the thought. Finn nods, pleased, but Rey shakes her head.

 

‘No,’ she says firmly. ‘No, you’ve waited long enough.’ She turns to Finn, her eyes sharp. ‘You should sleep at Dave’s place tonight, if you can’t handle this.’

 

For a moment, Finn and Rey stare at one another. After a minute of awkward silence, Finn jumps up. He grabs a jacket from the front door and his keys.

 

‘You’re making a big fucking mistake here Rey, you know that, right?’ He says.

 

But Rey shakes her head. ‘We’ll talk about this tomorrow, Finn.’

 

He leaves, slamming the door behind him, and Rey winces.

 

‘Are you okay?’ Ben asks.

 

Rey shrugs. ‘No. But this was never going to be a good situation, was it? Don’t hate Finn,’ she turns to him, her eyes pleading. ‘He’s been with us since she was a baby. He loves her. Don’t hate him for feeling threatened.’

 

It’s on the tip of Ben’s lips to reply that he, and not Finn, is the one feeling threatened. But he reminds himself of his vow to be a good man for Havi, and nods. 

 

‘I don’t hate him. I hate myself for letting it get to this point.’

 

Rey sighs, closing her eyes momentarily. ‘Don’t hate yourself. Because if you’re at fault here then I am too. Hate’s an easy reaction. Anger’s an easy reaction. Hope is the hard road,’ she opens her eyes, taking his hand once more. ‘Let’s go forwards from here.’

 

She starts walking towards her bedroom, and Ben’s legs are like lead and jelly all at once. His hands are shaking, and he feels sweat bead on his forehead.

 

Rey opens the door. ‘I don’t want to wake her,’ she whispers. ‘I won’t turn on the light. But you can see her, just there on the edge of the bed.’

 

His voice is weak. ‘Will she be... is she alright there? She won’t... won’t roll out, or hurt herself, or...’

 

Rey smiles. ‘She prefers the edge. Every time I move her to the middle, she rolls back to the edge again. She’s hit the floor more times than I can count. I put pillows on the ground now, to pad her fall.’

 

He nods, and Rey takes a step back. ‘Take a look,’ she encourages him. ‘Go and see her. I’ll wait here. I’m just in the doorway.’

 

Ben’s mouth is dry. ‘I don’t know about this.’

 

Rey smiles. ‘Please, Ben. Just take a look at her. I want to know if you see it too.’

 

‘See what?’

 

‘Just take a look, okay?’

 

On uncertain feet, he steps carefully into the room. There’s a cool breeze to break the humidity, and on the bed lies a small form, all curled legs and sprawling arms. He takes a deep breath, kneeling down to get a closer look.

 

Her lashes are dark on her pale and still cheeks. Her hair is dark, braided to one side. Her lips are pink and slightly open, her chest rising and falling in even breaths. She’s small but strong and even in her sleep there’s a determined scowl that is so familiar to him that it steals his breath away. He puts a finger out timidly, laying it against an open palm, feeling it twitch against his skin. Her warmth is a miracle to him.

 

Rey’s waiting in the hall for him. When he comes out after ten minutes, there are tears falling freely from his eyes. She opens her arms and he falls into them, sobbing into her shoulder.

 

‘Do you see it?’ She asks, her own voice swollen with tears.

 

‘Yes,’ he replies. ‘Yes, I see it.’

 

He’d be a fool not to. Anyone who knew anything about his family would see it too.

 

Because Havi, through some genetic throwback, is the double of Leia Organa. A small, miniature form of his mother, scowling at him still from beyond the grave in the baby-face of his daughter.

 

‘She’s beautiful,’ he tells Rey, gripping her tightly. ‘She’s so beautiful.’

 

And so, on the first day that Ben meets his daughter, he learns that tears, like his child, are beautiful. Perfect drops of emotion, lingering on the skin, sent straight from the heart and bearing witness to love in its simplest form. 

 

He goes to sleep that night on Rey’s sofa, and wakes the next morning to find the early morning sunshine streaming into his eyes, while a finger pokes him relentlessly in the arm. 

 

‘Who are you?’ A small voice intones bossily. 

 

And Ben opens his eyes only to come face-to-face with the deep brown and deeply distrustful irises of his daughter.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is called ‘Birthday’ and has Ben adjusting to fatherhood, as well as moving forwards in his relationship with Rey. And then we have the final Rey POV chapter. I need a beta reader for both if anyone is up to the task? X


	24. Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of triggers in this chapter to do with divorce and absent parents. Please don’t read of this will upset you.

_ He’s running through some paperwork for the Comet when Jess comes into his office, brandishing a photograph in her hands. _

 

_ It’s Havi’s picture. The only one he has of her, and he inhales sharply to see it held so casually in another person’s fingers. _

 

_ ‘Who’s the baby?’ Jess asks, her voice unnaturally light, a false air of indifference to her tone. _

 

_ ‘My daughter,’ Ben replies, deliberately keeping his own words calm. _

 

_ Jess feigns surprise, even though they both know she’d already figured it out.  _

 

_ Havi has his eyes, after all. The eyes he inherited from his mother, who inherited them from her mother before her. _

 

_ His mother’s eyes, Rey’s smile, and something all of her own that makes Havi, to Ben, the most beautiful baby in the planet. Not for the first time, Ben feels a strong surge of pride. Because behind his daughter stands generation after generation of strong, beautiful women, and damn anyone who tells him that his daughter won’t be the strongest and loveliest one of them all. _

 

_ ‘Where is she?’ Jess asks. _

 

_ Ben extends his hand for the photograph and Jess passes it over. His body sings with relief at the feel of the worn piece of card between his fingers and he smiles at Havi’s baby face before tucking the image safely into his pocket, right next to his heart. _

 

_ ‘I don’t know,’ he admits quietly. ‘She was born in London, and she lived there until... well, I think until she was about nine months old. But I don’t know where she is now.’ _

 

_ ‘Oh,’ Jess looks at him intently. ‘You aren’t, um, in touch with the mother?’ _

 

_ It’s a leading question and they both know it. Jess has made her interest in him very clear. But at this moment, it’s an affection he cannot reciprocate. _

 

_ Not while he still has hope for Rey. _

 

_ After all, she promised she’d wait for him in the light. _

 

_ ‘No, not currently,’ Ben says. _

 

_ ‘But you intend to be in the future?’ _

 

_ He nods, almost fervently. ‘I love her,’ he admits. Jess sighs, before giving him a tight smile. _

 

_ ‘You should tell her that.’ _

 

_ ‘I would,’ Ben clenches a hand, pain striking him anew. ‘If I knew where to find her, I would.’ _

 

_ Jess stares at the outline of Havi’s picture in his shirt pocket. ‘She’s a cute baby,’ she says, ‘I hope you find her one day,’ she pauses, her eyes abruptly intense. ‘I’ll bet you’ll be a great Dad one day, Ben.’  _

 

_ He stares at her, his hands still clenched tight, his face tense. He says nothing, and in his rigid silence Jess clears her throat, suddenly awkward. ‘Right, well, I better get back to the console panel that’s being installed on the Comet. If we’re going to fly that thing, it has to be able to handle the modern tech we’re putting into it.’ _

 

_ He nods, but he’s not really listening. His thoughts are ticking over restlessly, pulling at one unpleasant thread, again and again, until it unravels completely in his mind. _

 

_ A great Dad. _

 

_ A great Dad.  _

 

_ Yes, Havi deserves a great Dad.  _

 

_ But Ben feels a crippling sense of fear, of inadequacy, and of self-hatred. _

 

_ Because in his life he’s been a terrible son. A terrible friend. A terrible lover, and an awful husband. _

 

_ He’s been the worst brother.  _

 

_ He destroyed his mother, killed his father, and fucked his sister.  _

 

_ He is a scourge on his family, and there has never been a relationship in which he can claim greatness. _

 

_ Ben puts down his paperwork and buries his head in his hands, struck by heartache and worry, because Havi is his baby, and he doesn’t want to hurt her.  _

 

_ But he fears that he doesn’t know how to love someone without hurting them.  _

 

_ *** _

 

‘Who are you?’

 

Havi’s eyes are like liquid chocolate, flecked with hazel and amber. For a moment, his mind still sleep-addled and hazy, Ben stares into them, lost in their earthy depths. 

 

But then a stubby finger is poked between his eyes, and he comes back to reality with a sharp stab of pain.

 

_ This is my daughter,  _ he thinks, panic flaring through him, before sitting up sharply.  _ Where the fuck is Rey? _

 

‘Who are you?’ Havi pokes his arm this time, looking at him with a combination of suspicion and interest. She’s wearing a faded Minnie Mouse nightgown and is clutching a battered teddy bear. Her feet are small and bare, and Ben sees ten perfectly formed toes, each topped with a perfectly formed toenail. He stares at them, before glancing back up at her.

 

_ How can anything be so small but so perfect? _

 

‘I’m Ben,’ he stutters, still staring at her. ‘I’m a friend of your Mommy.’

 

Havi unabashedly stares back, her face set into cross lines that remind him so much of his mother that he has to remind himself to keep breathing.

 

‘Mummy’s sleeping. Where’s my Uncle Finn?’ She asks, and Ben licks his lips, nodding at her.

 

‘Um.. he went to a friend’s house,’ he says, his voice still rough and broken.

 

Havi stares at him suspiciously, and he continues to stare back. 

 

_ Does she recognise her eyes in mine?  _ He thinks, his mind still working overtime.

 

But, suddenly, Havi’s face relaxes. ‘I’d like my breakfast,’ she announces, and Ben gapes at her.

 

‘Um... okay... what?’

 

Havi pauses. ‘Sorry. I’d like my breakfast,  _ please. _ ’

 

Ben stands, looking down at his child and running a hand through his hair.

 

‘I’ll get your Mom,’ he says, but Havi shakes her head.

 

‘No. Mummy sleeps in the morning. Uncle Finn always makes my breakfast.’

 

‘Okay,’ he takes a deep breath. ‘What do you... uh, what do you have?’

 

‘Can you make pancakes?’ Havi asks, cuddling into her bear. 

 

‘No.’

 

‘What about Eggy bread?’

 

‘I don’t even know what that is.’

 

Havi frowns at him. Again, it’s so like Leia that Ben’s breath catches in his throat.

 

‘Toast?’ She tries, and he smiles. 

 

‘Yeah. Yeah, I think I can make toast. Can you... can you show me where the kitchen is?’

 

Havi nods, leading him out of the small living room and into a bright and breezy room at the back of the house. There’s a box of toys on the floor and a pile of board books sitting on a cheap pine table. Separating the kitchen from a small family room is a breakfast bar, and Havi stands by one of the chairs expectantly.

 

‘Where does your Mommy keep the bread?’ He asks her, but she looks confused. ‘What is it?’ He asks, immediately terrified. 

 

But Havi points at the chair. ‘I can’t get up myself. My legs are too little.’

 

Ben pauses. ‘Oh, right.’ 

 

Gingerly, he walks to her side and goes to lift her up, holding his breath. This is the first time he will ever touch his child and he wants to remember this moment forever. Havi raises her arms trustingly and Ben picks her up. She’s unexpectedly light in his arms and she smells of clean cotton and strawberry shampoo. Her skin is soft under his fingers and it takes all of his effort not to hug her before he sits her gently in her chair.

 

He stares down at her, taking in once again the brown hair, brown eyes, high cheekbones and peach skin. 

 

‘The bread is in the basket,’ Havi says in her sing-song, baby voice, her legs swinging. She has a strange, mixed up accent, a little British and a little Australian, combined with a half-lisp that makes him smile.

 

‘Okay,’ he says. 

 

He puts two slices into the toaster. ‘What do you have on top?’ He asks her. ‘Butter? Jelly?’

 

She laughs. ‘You’re silly. Why would you put jelly on toast? It would wobble off.’

 

‘Right,’ he agrees without thinking. ‘Okay. What do you have then?’

 

‘Marmite,’ she tells him. ‘It’s in the pantry.’

 

Marmite. Ben grimaces, because he remembers Rey’s obsession with that foul-smelling yeast paste. She would smear it all over her bread and even melt it over her pasta. He shudders when he locates the familiar black pot and spreads a thin layer over his daughter’s toast.

 

But Havi munches away at it quite happily, and Ben grins at her.

 

‘You’re like your Mommy,’ he tells her.

 

But Havi stares at him while she eats her breakfast. ‘You talk funny,’ she announces. ‘Why do you talk funny?’

 

‘Uh... I guess because I live in a different country.’

 

‘Oh,’ Havi thinks for a moment. ‘Which country?’

 

‘The States,’ he replies, but Havi’s face is blank. ‘I’m a pilot,’ he tries tentatively, and at that, her face brightens.

 

‘Like my Daddy,’ she tells him, and he feels his heart thud painfully in his chest.

 

‘Your Daddy flies planes?’ He asks quietly.

 

‘Yes,’ Havi licks her lips, but there’s marmite all over her cheeks. ‘Mummy says my Daddy has his own plane, and one day he’s going to come here and fly us both away.’

 

Ben swallows. ‘You’d like that?’

 

‘My Mummy would,’ Havi says. ‘Sometimes she cries at night because she misses my Daddy.’

 

Ben nods, his eyes suddenly thick with tears he refuses to shed. Not now. Not in front of Havi.

 

‘Do you... do you miss your Daddy?’ He asks, hardly daring to hope that-

 

But Havi only stares at him. ‘I had a Mr. Potato Head who melted in the sun the year the shed burned down,’ she confesses. ‘I miss my Mr. Potato Head. I’ve never met my Daddy,’ she finishes with a shrug.

 

Ben nods, turning away and filling the kettle.

 

He’s partly sad, but mostly stoic. Because it occurs to him that Havi, at just three-years-old, has reached a stage that he and Rey both struggled to achieve. Havi, born with Leia’s common sense, refuses to miss what she has never known. He and Rey waited years for a family. Waited years for happiness. Waited years for people who would only let them down, hurting only themselves in the process. 

 

Havi isn’t hurting, Ben realises. Havi is well, and whole, and emotionally stable.

 

And this thought makes him smile when he turns back to her, coffee in hand.

 

‘I’m going to get you a new Mr. Potato Head,’ he tells her.

 

Havi frowns. ‘Why?’ She asks. ‘It’s not my birthday.’

 

Ben sips his coffee, considering her words. 

 

She’s right. He doesn’t want to buy his way into her affections.

 

‘Okay,’ he says. ‘For your next birthday, I’ll get you a new Mr. Potato Head.’

 

She nods at that, munching on more of her toast.

 

And for the next five minutes, father and daughter sit in companionable silence.

 

***

 

Ben’s been in South Australia for three weeks when Rey drops into his hotel unexpectedly one night after work. 

 

He’s sleeping at what he would politely describe as a ‘rustic’ inn a two hour drive from Takodana. He’s bought a rusty pickup truck the previous owner called a ‘ute’ for pennies and drives it everyday to Rey’s place, where he stays with Havi while Rey and Finn work. Havi infinitely prefers Finn to him, which Ben realises with regret and more than a small dart of anger, but he’s winning his way into her small heart gradually.

 

He’ll sit on the floor with his daughter, folding his long legs awkwardly under his heavy frame, and play barbies or trains or make play doh shapes with her. Havi, Ben learns quickly, is sharp and bright and learns quickly. But she’s not whimsical and she struggles to play imagination games. One morning, when Ben pretends to make one of trains fly, she frowns at him.

 

‘No Ben,’ she tells him sternly. ‘Trains don’t fly.’

 

She likes Elmo and Minnie Mouse and Ben is quickly learning all the lines to her favourite songs. Havi likes to dance and Ben decides that one day, when he’s allowed to make decisions regarding her upbringing, he’s going to pay for her to have proper ballet lessons. 

 

But that day feels like a long time away, when every afternoon Finn returns from work and Havi throws herself into his arms, letting him kiss her cheeks and tickle her tummy. Finn will smile broadly at Havi, before turning to Ben and thanking him stiffly for ‘watching her for the day.’

 

Finn makes him feel like a glorified babysitter, and although he and Rey have agreed that they have to broach the subject of him being Havi’s father with her slowly, it makes him burn inside with anger. Ben will get into his ute, stewing with rage, and make the two-hour drive back to his lonely hotel room, while Finn remains to spend quality time with  _ his  _ Havi.

 

So, when Rey walks into his hotel room one night, and tells him that their situation is ‘no longer working,’ he’s ready for a fight.

 

‘I’m not giving her up,’ he says bluntly. ‘You can’t make me give her up again, I don’t care what Finn fucking says.’

 

But Rey sits on his bed with a sigh. ‘Actually, that’s what I meant. This situation, with me, you, Havi and Finn... it’s not working. You’re Havi’s father, and she’s never going to learn to accept that while Finn’s coming home every evening and playing Daddy with her.’

 

Ben sits in surprise. Because Rey is taking his side, and no one has ever really taken his side.

 

‘Oh,’ he says. ‘Oh. Well, what do you think we should do?’

 

‘My visa is up here soon,’ Rey tells him. ‘I think we need to leave Australia.’

 

Ben breathes a little more easily. ‘We can go home to the States,’ he says instantly. ‘Havi starts school next September. We’ll find a really good one, and I’ll get you a house and-’

 

But Rey shakes her head. ‘No,’ she says. ‘No, not the States. Havi was born in the U.K and she doesn’t have U.S citizenship.’

 

‘But through us...’

 

‘No,’ Rey says flatly. ‘I rescinded my American citizenship when Havi was born.’

 

Ben stares at her. ‘Why?’ He asks, a clipped note of irritation sneaking through his restraint.

 

‘For tax purposes, partly. I don’t want Havi paying American tax. She doesn’t live there. She probably never will.’

 

‘But I live there,’ Ben says through gritted teeth. ‘What? You weren’t ever planning on letting Havi near me?’

 

‘No, it’s not that-’

 

‘I’ve been fucking patient about all this, Rey,’ Ben carries on. ‘But this... making long-term decisions about our child without me... this wasn’t your call to make... and...’

 

Rey lays a hand on his knee, and he stops.

 

‘Ben,’ she pleads. ‘Please understand. Under American law, we’re brother and sister. If I had given birth to her in Utah, they might have taken her away from us. You would never have been allowed to be named on her birth certificate. Under U.K law, I can name you as father without recriminations. I  _ was  _ thinking long-term, for all of us.’

 

‘Oh,’ Ben feels the wind knocked out of him. He looks at Rey’s hand, still on his knee. ‘Oh,’ he says again. ‘Sorry,’ he whispers.

 

‘It’s okay,’ Rey replies quietly. ‘Nothing about this situation is ideal, Ben. But we need to go forward in a way that works for us all.’

 

‘Okay,’ Ben nods. Rey still hasn’t taken her hand from his skin and her touch and scent and the sheer  _ nearness  _ of her is clouding his mind. ‘Okay. What do you suggest?’

 

‘I’m going back to the U.K,’ Rey says. ‘I’ve been thinking about maybe going to university, finally. The universities in the U.K are good about single mums bringing kids, and-’

 

Ben bristles at her use of the phrase ‘single mum’ and he tenses. Rey sighs, squeezing his thigh gently.

 

‘Listen, I want you to come with us. I want to do all this right from now on. With you and Havi, and with you and me. That means slowly, but together.’

 

‘What about Finn?’ Ben asks instantly.

 

Rey bites her lip with a long sigh. ‘It’s time for Finn to find his own place in the world,’ she says sadly. ‘He can’t use Havi and I as a default family forever. I love him, Havi loves him, and I hope he’ll visit us regularly. But he’s not  _ you,  _ Ben. I want you back. And Havi needs you.’

 

‘Havi is indifferent to me,’ Ben says, with more than a touch of bitterness. ‘She doesn’t need me.’

 

Rey exhales, squeezing his thigh again. ‘Yes, she does. And she’s not indifferent to you... it's just that she’s three. The great loves of her life are chocolate buttons and two-thirds of the current line-up of the Paw Patrol.’

 

‘Paw patrol?’ Ben asks with a raised eyebrow, and Rey grins.

 

‘You’ll find out,’ she says, ‘And then regret the day you ever did,’ she adds wickedly.

 

‘Okay,’ Ben breathes out. ‘Okay. The U.K it is then. I’ll need to organise a visa, accommodation... but yes. Yes, let’s try this.’ He looks at her earnestly. ‘I want this to work, Rey. I need this to work. I can’t lose you again.’

 

‘You aren’t going to lose Havi again,’ Rey assures him. ‘I promise you that and...’

 

‘No,’ Ben shakes his head. ‘No, I didn’t mean... look, I’m not going to lose Havi. I’m her father and I’m not going to be apart from her again. But she’s a child, and this isn’t her decision to make. I meant  _ you,’  _ he exhales shakily. ‘I can’t lose  _ you  _ again, Rey. Because you’re a grown woman, and you can walk out the door on me, anytime you want. But I’m going to do anything in my power to keep that from happening, okay? Believe me, I’m putting everything I’ve got into this.’

 

Rey gives him an uncertain smile.

 

‘Ben?’ She slides up next to him, looking at him with those hazel eyes that still make his stomach jump with excitement. ‘Kiss me?’

 

He pauses. ‘We’re taking things slowly,’ he tells her. ‘I don’t know if this... I don’t think...’

 

‘Ben,’ Rey runs a hand down his cheek, drawing him closer. ‘Don’t think. Please just kiss me.’

 

He leans down, pressing his lips to hers gently. His skin tingles at her touch while his heart melts at her embrace. 

 

‘Rey...’ he breathes out at one point, and she smiles at him. 

 

‘Just kiss me, Ben.’

 

He kisses her.

 

***

 

They’re packing up Rey’s little house, sorting things into boxes to ship to the U.K when Havi bursts into tears. 

 

‘What is it?’ Ben asks her anxiously, and the small girl rubs at her eyes and cheeks. ‘Breathe, Havi. Take a deep breath and tell me.’

 

‘I don’t want to go,’ she gasps out between sobs. ‘I don’t want to leave.’

 

This is the only home his daughter has ever known and Ben feels a deep stab of guilt that they’re taking her from it. He takes a deep breath, crouching to her level and rubbing a tear from her face.

 

‘Let’s go and get ice-cream,’ he suggests easily. ‘Come one. We need a break.’

 

Rey’s frowning in her bedroom, sorting out piles of clothing when Ben pokes his ear around the door and tells her he’s taking Havi into town.

 

She looks up, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. ‘Okay,’ she nods, even though her eyes flicker with uncertainty.

 

Because Ben has never taken Havi from her home before. Not alone. 

 

‘I have my phone if you need me,’ Ben assures her gently, and Rey visibly relaxes. 

 

‘Okay,’ she agrees. 

 

Ben can’t help himself. He walks up to her and kisses her, deeply and with real affection. Rey’s flushed when he pulls away, and he grins at her. ‘Want me to bring you some ice-cream back?’

 

She laughs. ‘In this heat? It’ll melt before you hit the street.’

 

He takes Havi to the local newsagent who sells ice-cream from a small freezer squeezed between the newspapers and canned drinks. The choice is poor and Ben winces, but Havi’s eyes are like delighted saucers and Ben adds another item to his ever-growing list of things he wants to do with her.

 

_ One day I’m going to take her to a proper Italian gelateria,  _ he thinks.  _ And she can order as many flavours as she wants. _

 

Havi is cheered up by a sugary concoction on a stick, shaped like a cowboy with a bubblegum ball for a nose, and she licks her treat as they walk home, her small hand held tight within his. 

 

At one point, she looks up, pointing to the sky with her ice-cream.

 

It’s an airplane, a 747, high up in the cloudless sky. A vapour trail cuts through the blue, and Havi smiles widely.

 

‘Look Ben,’ she says happily. ‘It’s my Daddy. Want to wave to my Daddy, Ben?’

 

Ben swallows hard, his stomach in knots, as he waves up to the plane.

 

‘Hello, Havi’s Daddy,’ he whispers, and Havi suddenly stops, looking at him with concern.

 

‘Do you think when we’re gone my Daddy will know where to find us?’ She asks, her voice worried. ‘I don’t want him to get here and think we didn’t wait for him.’

 

‘He’ll be okay,’ Ben assures her, squeezing her hand. ‘He’ll know where to find you, I promise.’

 

‘I hope he likes me,’ Havi whispers, and Ben’s heart lifts at the knowledge that she is confiding in him, even while it shatters at the small worries she so clearly carries.

 

‘Havi, baby,’ he says fervently, ‘He isn’t going to just  _ like  _ you. Not when he already  _ loves  _ you.’

 

***

 

They’ve been two months in the U.K when Ben comes home with Havi to find Rey sobbing quietly over a box that she’s begun to unpack in his absence. He settles Havi in front of the television with a box of juice and walks back into Rey’s bedroom.

 

‘What’s going on?’ He asks gently, and Rey shoves the box in his direction.

 

He opens it, pulling out a mass of letters and photographs.

 

‘I just... I’d forgotten I’d kept all of this,’ Rey says, wiping tears from her face. ‘I packed it away and... and... well, looking at it again just takes me back, you know?’

 

Ben’s face is like stone as he reads the first letter.

 

‘ _ Dear Miss Solo,’  _ he reads aloud. ‘ _ Please find enclosed the letters and photographs you addressed to your brother, Mr. Ben Solo. Mr. Solo is a guest at our facility and has given us explicit permission to screen his mail for any upsetting or potentially damaging communications. We have examined the items you have addressed to your brother and, regretfully, have come to the conclusion that this correspondence would not be in Mr. Solo’s best interests to receive. You must understand that Alpha’s in therapy are volatile and want to act without due care and attention. The pictures you have enclosed of Mr. Solo’s niece in particular may cause a set-back in his therapy here.’ _

 

Ben exhales, the letter clenched tight in his hand. ‘Those utter fucking  _ bastards,’  _ he swears. ‘They never even told me... even on my discharge, they never told me...’

 

Rey sobs quietly. ‘They called her  _ your niece, _ ’ she says bitterly. ‘I think that cut the deepest.’

 

‘I’m never going to forgive myself for this,’ Ben whispers. ‘I signed that form. I did this to us.’

 

But Rey shakes her head. ‘We can’t start using words like blame,’ she tells him. ‘We have to go forward now, okay?’

 

‘But I did this-’ Ben begins, utterly wretched, but Rey lays a hand on his.

 

‘Ben, there’s something you should know...’ she starts timidly.

 

‘What?’ 

 

‘Poe called me when you were discharged. He told me you were home.’

 

Ben stares at her, processing this information slowly.

 

‘Why didn’t you come find me?’ He whispers. ‘Why didn’t you come to me?’

 

Rey shrugs. ‘I was seeing someone. Someone who didn’t have all the... all the  _ issues  _ you did. I don’t know how to explain it... it was like I was having a taste of normality. And he was lovely and he wanted a family and he was good with Havi and he wanted to marry me and I... I wanted to see where it went. And I knew if I went to you I would never find out. I would never find out.’

 

‘Find out what?’ Ben asks, his voice tight.

 

Rey looks at him, her heart laid out for him in her eyes. ‘That he wasn’t  _ you.  _ That no man was like you. And that no other man would ever make me really happy,’ she admits. ‘That I only wanted you, and that I was only ever going to want you.’

 

She reaches for him, but Ben brushes her hand from his skin.

 

‘You kept me from my child,’ he says accusingly, ‘You put another man before me and my relationship with our daughter,’ he continues. 

 

‘Ben-’

 

But he shakes his head at her. ‘I don’t know how to forgive you for this, Rey.’

 

He leaves her to cry in her bedroom, joining Havi in front of the television. He smiles at her, and she smiles back.

 

‘Havi,’ he starts gently. ‘Havi, you know your Daddy?’

 

‘Yes,’ Havi nods, hardly looking away from  _ Paw Patrol. _

 

‘You know it's me, don’t you?’

 

At that, Havi looks up at him. 

 

Abruptly, she giggles.

 

‘Don’t be silly, Ben.’

 

Ben makes it through another ten minutes of fucking  _ Paw Patrol  _ before he kisses Havi on the head and leaves.

 

***

 

It’s Havi’s fourth birthday in three weeks and Ben contacts Rey through his lawyer to make party arrangements.

 

‘Tell her I’ll do and pay for everything,’ he instructs the eye-wateringly expensive barrister. ‘But she isn’t invited. I want Havi for the weekend of her birthday and I’ll drop her at her pre-school on the Monday morning.’

 

Rey’s response comes an hour later. 

 

_ Tell Ben he can have whatever he wants. _

 

He’s been living in London for six months now, renting a two-bedroom flat near Victoria station. He has Havi every second weekend and on Tuesdays, and it's his favourite time of the week. He only sees Rey when he absolutely has to, and he can hardly look at her without feeling a painful mix of grief, rage and betrayal. He knows she’s in college now, and he knows that she works hard and cares for Havi well. 

 

He also knows that she’s lost weight. He knows that her eyes follow him with loss whenever she sees him and he knows, deep down, that she was in a difficult position in Takodana and he shouldn’t be as angry as he is.

 

But then he thinks of Rey playing happy families with men other than him, first with Finn and then with Dean, and his blood runs hot with rage all over again.

 

_ She cost me my daughter,  _ he thinks whenever he sees her.

 

Because Havi still doesn’t acknowledge him as her father. She still calls him Ben, still waves at planes in the sky, greeting the mythical father figure Rey spun stories about for years.

 

He picks up Havi after pre-school on her birthday and takes her straight to Greenwich, to an ice-cream parlour he’s heard good things about. There’s a man and woman behind the counter and Havi giggles from her seat when they kiss.

 

‘What?’ Ben teases her. ‘You don’t like kissing?’

 

‘No, not really,’ Havi screws up her nose. ‘But their hands are doing funny things.’

 

Ben looks up with concern, but relaxes with a smile when he sees what the couple are doing.

 

‘They’re signing to each other,’ he tells Havi. ‘When people can’t hear, they use their hands to talk.’

 

‘Oh,’ Havi looks back to the couple. ‘Maybe you should use your hands to talk to Mummy, since you can’t use words anymore,’ she suggests.

 

Ben stares at her.

 

‘You think I should talk to Mommy?’

 

Havi nods, licking her spoon. ‘I don’t like being passed between you,’ she says. ‘I don’t like it when you don’t talk. I don’t like Mummy crying.’

 

Ben swallows hard.

 

‘My parents fought all the time,’ he says.

 

Havi’s face is serious. ‘Did they use their angry voices?’ 

 

He closes his eyes, remembering Han and Leia and the screaming matches between them.

 

‘All the time,’ he tells her. ‘They were angry all the time.’

 

Havi considers that. ‘Miss Bates at Pre-school says that not talking because we’re angry is the same as yelling.’

 

‘How so?’ Ben asks, taking a spoonful of his own ice-cream.

 

‘Well, because it’s all just anger, isn’t it?’ Havi says. ‘And we shouldn’t be angry for too long, or it makes us bad inside, Miss Bates says.’

 

Ben nods. ‘Miss Bates sounds very clever.’

 

‘Are you bad inside then, Ben?’

 

Ben opens his mouth, but finds he cannot talk.

 

‘Because you’re angry at Mummy. And you won’t talk to her, and that hurts her, so you must be going bad inside.’

 

Ben stares at her, feeling numb and grief-stricken all at once.

 

‘You think I’m bad?’ He asks quietly, a painful lump in his throat.

 

Havi stares at him. ‘I wish you would talk to Mummy again.’

 

‘Does it... does it hurt you when I don’t?’

 

‘No, it hurts Mummy,’ Havi says, with the all important air of a four year old who knows everything.

 

Ben sits, completely stunned. He watched Han and Leia rip each other apart for years, and it hurt him. He’d vowed never to hurt Havi in the same way, vowed to be silent in his rage against her mother rather than subject her to the same vicious arguments he witnessed and yet here he sits, having hurt her anyway.

 

Because he knows Havi now. He knows that she loves her mother and that any slight against Rey is a slight against her.

 

And he can’t help the tears that suddenly streak down his face, salt water cutting into the sweet of his ice-cream.

 

Havi looks at him with concern. She moves towards him, throwing herself into his lap and wringing her small arms around his neck. 

 

It’s the embrace he didn’t even know he needed.

 

‘I’m sorry,’ Havi whispers into his ear. ‘I didn’t mean to make you cry.’

 

‘No, baby, it’s not you...’ Ben begins, but Havi kisses his cheek.

 

‘Don’t cry, Daddy. Please don’t cry.’

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more to go called ‘reconciliation’


	25. Amy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it. There really isn’t anything else I can do with this story.
> 
> It’s been a journey, writing this, and not always a happy one. But the support I’ve had has been amazing, and I hope this HEA has made all the angst worth it.
> 
> Much love to you all.x

Ben’s meeting with his London editor runs late that Friday lunchtime, which means that he misses his train back home, and, worse yet, can’t pick Havi up at three like he promised.

 

Ben’s desperately disappointed, cursing as he only just misses a tube by about thirty seconds, the doors closing just as he runs onto the platform at Holborn. There’s another train in four minutes, but still, he groans as he watches the train slide away, pulling out his phone to text Rey. So far as Ben is concerned, every second with Havi counts and he just lost another two hundred and forty of them. 

 

His daughter is five now and in her first year at a small primary school in Surrey, where she’s all scuffed shoes, flyaway hair and ripped gingham skirts. Leia’s granddaughter is anything but neat, and it makes Ben grin to think of what his parents would have made of his child, this girl with Leia’s face and Han’s scruffy ways. He loves picking her up on a Friday, seeing her run out to greet him, her  _ Frozen  _ lunchbox trailing behind her, hands overflowing with artwork and craft projects. His fridge is already covered in her work, and his kitchen walls look like a Picasso’s studio on a really bad fucking day, but Ben doesn’t care. 

 

Every gift from Havi is a gift to treasure, he knows. 

 

He came so close to never getting anything from her at all.

 

Ben will wait for her in the playground, one hand shoved in a pocket while the other absent-mindedly scrolls through his phone, doing his utmost to avoid the attention of the other parents. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to be social, but everyone seems to know that he and Rey are no longer an item, and as such, all the single mothers seem to think he’s fair game, hitting on him constantly in the painful ten minutes he has to wait for Havi to be released from class. 

 

‘You’re so devoted to Havi,’ one particularly keen woman always gushes, ‘Alpha’s aren’t normally so protective of female children. It’s such a shame Rey didn’t provide you with a son while the two of you were mated.’

 

Ben, with a tight smile, only ever nods. ‘I wouldn’t change Havi for the world,’ he’ll reply evenly, although inside he’ll be burning up, seething at the implication that Havi isn’t perfect, that Rey somehow failed him in giving him a girl. 

 

Whatever failures he and Rey have made in their lives, Havi isn’t one of them. 

 

Ben texts Rey while waiting for the next train, asking if she can get Havi and then if he can pick her up from her place later that afternoon.

 

_ Sure,  _ Rey’s reply is instant.  _ Are you still okay to have her this weekend? _

 

_ Yes, of course,  _ Ben replies, just as quickly,  _ I just had a meeting run over is all. I’ll get her from you and then take her to get pizza for dinner. _

 

_ She’ll like that,  _ Rey replies, a smiley face emoji attached.  _ She’s always hungry at the moment. _

 

_ She has long legs to grow into,  _ Ben grins back, even though Rey cannot see the expression.  _ Wonder where she got those from? _

 

_ Hey,  _ Rey texts, _ I’m not the six foot giant with size one million shoes. _

 

Ben laughs out loud, readjusting the bag on his back as another tube rushes into the station. The doors open and he steps onto the train, still smiling.

 

_ Want to come with us?  _ He suddenly texts.  _ I’ll even let you have pineapple on your pizza if you insist upon it. _

 

He waits for Rey’s reply, feeling, as ever, a spark of both trepidation and hope run through him. Because things have been going well with Rey recently, so well that Ben’s seriously at the stage of suggesting they give it another go. ‘We have Havi,’ he thinks he’ll tell her, ‘our being together is the best thing for her. We should do this.’ It sounds sensible, logical, the perfect next step for their broken family. Of course, under all the logic there is an undercurrent of ‘I love you, I miss you, I need you, I’m sorry,’ but he isn’t certain how Rey might respond to that. Using Havi seems like the safer option, the clearer path, with less risk of pain, rejection, or sorrow. 

 

_ Can’t tonight. Next time? I’ll hold you to that pineapple promise, btw. _

 

Rey’s reply comes just as Ben’s train reaches his tube station, and he gets off, walking into the afternoon sunshine and pushing down a wave of disappointment. Because dates with both Rey and Havi have been more and more frequent as of late, and he’d looked forward to seeing Rey as much as he looked forward to seeing their daughter. It’s been that way for a good year now, ever since Havi broke his heart in that ice-cream parlour and Ben ditched both his lawyers and his personal vendetta against Rey and her past decisions. 

 

Time and a good therapist here in London have helped Ben’s mindset where Rey is concerned. He had a right to be angry, that he knows, and initially it felt good to act upon that anger. But she had a right to anger too, his therapist reminded him, and anger, while a useful emotion, can also be used as a coping mechanism, an easy line of defence when emotions are on the line.

 

‘Are you suggesting I used my anger to sabotage our relationship?’ Ben asked his therapist warily.

 

‘I think there’s an element of that here,’ the doctor replied. ‘You’ve come through quite a journey, Ben. And finally, when you reached an end-point, or a beginning, if you like, you chose to shut Rey out and indulge in past pain.’

 

‘She kept me from my child,’ Ben replied hotly.

 

‘Yes. But some might argue she did so with good reason.’

 

‘You think I should let it go,’ Ben muttered, under his breath.

 

But the therapist shrugged at him. ‘What I think really doesn’t matter, Ben. It’s what you do, and where you go from here that counts. You can keep being angry, keep paying lawyers, keep passing your child between you with the help of intermediaries... or, you can accept that it happened, process that information, and move on.’

 

Ben stared at her, thinking over her words. Something in them rang true in his mind, and he swallowed heavily. ‘I should move on,’ he agreed, his voice quiet. ‘For Havi’s sake, I should let it go.’

 

‘No,’ the therapist sighed at him. ‘No. Not for Havi’s sake. For  _ your  _ sake, Ben. For your sake.’

 

Ben mulls over his disappointment as he walks to his flat, letting himself into his home and dropping his bag and coat at the door. Havi’s sandals, bright pink and patterned with unicorns and rainbows, sit by the living room and he smiles at them. With a deep breath, he picks up his phone again.

 

_ Okay, no problem. Next time,  _ he replies, with more grace than he’s feeling.  _ I’ll be there in an hour to get her. That okay with you? _

 

_ No problem.  _ Rey says.  _ I’m not going out till eight so good until then. _

 

Momentarily, Ben clenches his phone in his hand. 

 

_ You going on a date?  _ He texts back, before he can help himself.

 

There is a pause of a few minutes before her reply comes through. Ben reads it, his heart in his throat, the blood pounding through his body.

 

_ Something like that. See you soon. _

 

***

 

Havi greets him at the door, wearing a paint-splattered dungaree dress, her dark hair tied into two braids. 

 

‘Daddy,’ she says, wriggling impatiently as he kisses her. ‘Did you know that Amy Johnson flew a De Havilland plane all the way from the UK to Australia in  _ nineteen days?’ _

 

Ben grins at her. ‘A De Havilland? Really? Gipsy or Fox?’

 

‘A Gipsy DH.60,’ Havi replies confidently. ‘It’s in the Science Museum. Can we go and see it? Please? Please please please please please please...’

 

Ben nods. ‘Yeah, we can go this weekend. Early though, so we beat the crowds.’

 

Havi jumps with excitement. ‘She’s called Jason,’ she tells him.

 

‘Who is?’ Ben frowns.

 

‘Amy Johnson’s plane,’ Havi replies. ‘She’s called Jason.’

 

‘Funny name for a plane,’ Ben remarks.

 

But Havi shakes her head at him. ‘It’s the best name in the world for a plane, Daddy.’

 

‘Fine, fine... I’m not arguing with a five-year-old. Is your bag packed?’

 

Havi nods.

 

‘Great. Go and grab it so we can get some pizza out before we go home. Remember to say goodbye to your mother, too.’

 

Havi frowns. ‘She’s not coming?’

 

‘No,’ Ben says simply, without explanation. ‘Go on then. Grab your things.’

 

As Havi skips into her bedroom he walks into the kitchen, finding Rey, as always, pouring over a folder of work on her breakfast bar, a coffee in her hand.

 

‘Hey,’ she says easily, and he smiles at her, pretending his heart just didn’t skip a beat at the sight of her. ‘Coffee?’

 

He nods, sliding into the seat next to hers. Momentarily, his thigh presses against her leg and he feels a frisson of heat, before she stands to grab him a mug.

 

‘So...’ he begins, and she looks up at him as she pours the coffee out.

 

‘So....?’ 

 

‘So, you’ve got a date tonight,’ he says bluntly, and Rey puts the mug down.

 

‘I knew you’d bring that up,’ she says with a sigh. ‘Are you okay with this? This isn’t going to cause any... problems?’

 

‘No, I’m fine with this,’ he lies quickly. ‘I admit, I was caught a little... off-guard. I didn’t know that we were... you know. Dating.’

 

Rey pushes a cup of coffee across the counter to him. ‘You mean you... you mean you haven’t...’

 

‘Not since Jess,’ he shrugs at her. ‘The only woman in my life these days is three foot tall, strong-willed and obsessed with Amy Johnson.’

 

‘Amy Johnson,’ Rey muses, with a shake of her head. ‘The girl’s crazy about her. By the way, that reminds me, Havi’s going to press you to take her to the Science museum this weekend... something about Amy Johnson’s plane being there and-’

 

‘Yeah,’ Ben nods. ‘She already asked me. We’re going tomorrow.’

 

‘You don’t always have to say yes to her, you know,’ Rey tells him, and Ben takes a sip of his coffee. 

 

‘I know,’ he agrees. ‘But planes are in her blood. I don’t mind.’

 

‘Maybe...’ Rey begins, her cheeks flushing slightly. ‘Maybe I could go with you? I know it's your weekend, but it might be nice, and...’ she trails off as Ben stares at her.

 

‘Yeah,’ he nods, looking down. ‘Yeah, you should meet us there. You probably know more about Johnson than I do.’

 

‘God, yes,’ Rey sighs. ‘Havi’s made me read that same bloody book about Johnson from the ‘Amazing Women’ series every night for a week now,’ suddenly she looks at him, giving him a mischievous smile that makes his stomach clench with something like anticipation. ‘Your turn tonight.’

 

‘Don’t worry. I’ll buy her the Amelia Earhart one tomorrow and then she’ll have a whole new heroine to worship.’

 

They fall silent for a moment and Ben takes another sip of his drink. A question lingers on his tongue, unwelcome and inappropriate, and he desperately tries to wash it away with coffee. He fails miserably.

 

‘So,’ he begins awkwardly. ‘Unless your date tonight goes really well, we’ll see you tomorrow at ten am?’

 

Rey freezes, her coffee halfway to her mouth. ‘I’m sorry?’

 

Ben flushes. ‘Oh, look, I just meant...’

 

‘I know what you meant,’ Rey replies icily. ‘And that’s hardly appropriate, Ben.’

 

Ben bites his lip. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you. I just... I guess it was my way of letting you know that I’m... you know... okay with you doing... uh...’

 

Rey stares at him in disbelief. Abruptly, she holds up her hand. ‘Look, stop right there, because we’re...’ she pauses. ‘Look, we’re in a good place at the moment, you and I, and I don’t want to ruin that. But it really doesn’t matter if you’re okay with my dating or not, you know that, right? It’s my choice.’

 

‘Sure,’ Ben replies. ‘Look, just forget I said anything, okay?’

 

Rey sighs. She leans forward, looking at him directly in the eye and lowering her voice. ‘Ben...’

 

‘I said forget it,’ he snaps. ‘It’s none of my business.’

 

They lapse into silence once more, and Ben drains his cup. 

 

‘Where is that girl?’ He finally huffs. ‘I sent her to get her bag, like, ten minutes ago.’

 

Rey shrugs. ‘You know Havi. She can take a good half hour to kiss all her teddies goodbye, find her bag and decide which sandals she wants to wear.’

 

Ben frowns, standing anyway, still feeling wound up and awkward. ‘I’ll go and get her,’ he swallows abruptly. ‘Give you more time to get ready.., not that you don’t already look great, but...’

 

Rey smiles, that old grin that reaches the corners of both her eyes and Ben pauses, momentarily mesmerised. 

 

‘Ben,’ she says suddenly. ‘Look, I’m going to be honest with you. Tonight - my date that is - well, it isn’t even really a... it’s not a date, not really, I guess. At least, not in the traditional sense.’

 

‘I don’t understand,’ Ben frowns, because he really doesn’t. All he knows is that he feels a deep stab of envy at the thought of Rey going out with anyone who isn’t him.

 

Rey takes a deep breath. ‘It’s not a date. It’s more like a... meeting of convenience.’

 

Ben stares at her. ‘Do you mean a hook-up?’ He asks, his blood heating with jealous outrage at the very thought.

 

Rey shrugs. ‘I guess so. Look - and this is mortifying to have to discuss with you - but my doctor recently recommended I try a new brand of suppressants. They’re newer, have less side-effects, are purportedly much more effective. But you have to start them on the first day of a new cycle, and so my doctor recommended that I... well, that I...’ she flushes dull red, and Ben sits back as knowledge floods through him.

 

‘You’re going to have a heat,’ he says, his voice inexplicably low.

 

‘Yes,’ Rey replies. Abruptly she stands, moving away from him to wash her mug out in the sink by her window. But Ben smells it before she goes, that delicate scent of both availability and arousal, light in the air but still, unmistakeable. 

 

‘With some stranger,’ Ben continues, his voice still low, with a new element of danger to his tone. Rey turns back to him, her eyes dark with desire. He stands immediately, one hand reaching towards her -

 

‘Havi’s in the house,’ she warns him, and he inhales sharply, dropping his hand instantly. 

 

‘Fuck,’ he whispers. ‘You’re really going to go into heat? Really?’

 

‘Yes,’ Rey looks down at her feet, and away from the longing look Ben knows must be written all over his face. ‘I don’t particularly want to go through one alone - I did it once before, about a year after Havi and...’ she trails off with a sigh. ‘Anyway, I found this website which matches you with available Alphas, and came across a guy who seems really nice. We’re meeting tonight for a Pre-heat discussion.’

 

Ben nods, but his hands are clenched into fists, his face as hard as stone.

 

‘I don’t like this,’ he says eventually, and Rey sighs.

 

‘Of course you don’t,’ she replies. ‘But this is my only choice.’

 

He opens his mouth to reply, to tell her that  _ of course she has a choice  _ when Havi walks into the room, pulling her overnight bag behind her. It’s stuffed to the brim with battered teddies and dolls and both Ben and Rey roll their eyes, all thoughts of heat and sex momentarily forgotten.

 

It’s only later, when Ben’s sitting in a local Italian, staring into his black coffee while Havi chatters happily beside him, that he finally breaks.

 

He pulls out his phone, typing out a quick message.

 

_ Don’t go and meet this Alpha,  _ he texts Rey,  _ I want to be the one. _

 

He waits for a reply, drumming his fingers across the table, before ordering a large scoop of ice-cream for Havi and another coffee for himself. He spends the next ten minutes in a painful ‘What if’ zone, torturing himself by running through multiple scenarios where Rey says no, where Rey is won over by this other Alpha, where Rey gets pregnant to another man. He doesn’t think he could bear to see that, doesn’t think he could sit by and watch her grow soft and round with somebody else’s child.

 

Havi’s scrapping the last of her ice-cream from her bowl and still, there’s no reply from Rey. Ben drains the dregs of his coffee, pays the bill and bundles Havi into her coat and still, nothing. It’s only when they’re travelling back to his place, the clock just about on eight pm, that a message comes through.

 

_ I want you to be the one too. _

 

***

 

They meet Rey in the flight gallery near Johnson’s plane, which is suspended by wires in the air above them. And fuck, that’s a beautiful bird, Ben thinks, staring up at the clean chassis, jade green in colour and inscripted with ‘Jason’ in white cursive. Havi’s eyes are wide, like saucers in her baby face, and she’s rattling off various Amy Johnson trivia facts at an alarming rate. But she’s happy, dancing on her feet next to him, and Rey smiles when she joins them, coffee in both her hands.

 

‘Wow,’ she breathes, staring up at the De Havilland, passing Ben a coffee.

 

‘Yeah,’ he exhales, grinning at her.

 

Planes, he knows, will forever be in the Solo blood and he wonders if, somewhere, his father is smiling to see the three current members of the family struck dumb by a DH.60 in a London museum. 

 

‘Two more years,’ Rey tells him, and Ben turns to her curiously. 

 

‘What?’

 

‘Two more years, and my course is done,’ she says, still staring at the plane. ‘And then I’m leaving London, moving out to the countryside somewhere and buying an old airfield. I’m going to buy vintage aircraft and remodel them.’

 

Ben grins at her again. ‘That’s a good plan,’ he says. He pulls on Havi’s hands, launching her up into the air and into his arms. ‘We’ve been distracted,’ he tells Rey, as Havi rests her head on his shoulder. ‘Sometimes I think we’ve forgotten the really important things in life. The things that make us happy.’

 

Rey turns to him, regarding him and Havi with fond, affectionate eyes. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she smiles. ‘I think I’m learning everyday about the things that make me really happy. And most of them,’ she smiles again, ‘most of them are in this room, you know.’

 

And Ben feels something a little like pure happiness run through his blood and into his heart.

 

***

 

They wander around the museum for a few hours, taking in Herschel’s telescope, Crick and Watson’s original DNA model, and Marconi’s transmitter, before letting Havi have an hour downstairs in the children’s play zone. They sit in the cafe next to the play zone, both watching their child, who has found a younger boy to play with and is happily splashing water next to. 

 

‘She would make a great older sister,’ Rey says suddenly, and Ben’s mouth runs dry.

 

‘Yeah,’ he agrees quietly.

 

‘Ben,’ Rey turns to him, her eyes serious. 

 

‘Yes?’

 

‘I would like to have another one, someday.’

 

It’s her first reference to their text conversation last night and Ben is struck dumb with sudden longing and desire.

 

He nods. ‘I’d like another one too,’ he agrees, before taking a deep breath. ‘But not yet. Not yet,’ he says again, at the look of alarm that crosses Rey’s face. ‘Look, Rey, I love Havi, but we need to be honest. Her coming along, when she did, wasn’t the best thing for you.’

 

‘Ben...’

 

‘No,’ he says firmly. ‘No, let me finish. I never said sorry, you know, for doing that to you. I never said sorry for taking you during that heat. I shouldn’t have. It was the wrong thing to do. You were nineteen, and my ward. Knocking you up, and then you having to do all that, by yourself...’ he shakes his head. ‘Sometimes I feel sick with guilt that I did that, you know? In my life, I’ve made a lot of mistakes. There are many regrets. But doing that, to you, is up there with the worst of them.’

 

Rey sighs, taking one of his hands in hers. Her fingers are warm, secure as they squeeze his, and she looks at him keenly.

 

‘I don’t regret it,’ she says, her voice stern. ‘I was nineteen, not a child. I knew what I was doing too. I wanted you then,’ she pauses, abruptly uncertain. ‘I still want you now. I’m always going to want you, Ben.’

 

He squeezes her fingers back. ‘I want you too,’ he admits. ‘I love you, Rey. I’ve always loved you. And I love you enough not to knock you up until after you’ve finished your studies, this time.’

 

Rey laughs, a high sound that travels across the cafe. ‘But after?’

 

Ben smiles at her. ‘After, I think we should buy that airfield. Remodel vintage planes. Have another baby or two.’

 

Rey’s smile this time comes through a face of tears. ‘It’s a good plan,’ she says. ‘A really good plan.’

 

And Ben leans forward to kiss her, tasting salt on her lips and tongue. He sighs, resting his temple against hers. ‘You’re always crying during our first kisses,’ he whispers, but Rey shakes her head. 

 

‘These are happy tears,’ she tells him. ‘Happy tears, just like my mother told me.’

 

***

 

Finn and Poe agree to have Havi for the week of Rey’s heat. They met during one of Rey’s financial accounts meetings, and although they’re an Alpha/Alpha pairing, it seems to work. They both dislike Ben, but love Rey and Havi, and Ben knows he can trust them with his daughter’s life for the seven days he and Rey have decided to take for themselves. 

 

‘We’re going to take her to Disneyland Paris,’ Finn says excitedly. ‘We’ve booked Cinderella’s lunch and everything.’

 

‘Yeah, good luck with that one,’ Rey tells him, ‘when I asked Havi where she wanted to go, she said the Thames Estuary, so she can see where Amy Johnson’s plane crashed and she died.’

 

Finn’s face momentarily falls. He turns to Ben. ‘This is your influence?’

 

Ben holds his hands up innocently. ‘Hey, her mother is an aviation engineer and pilot, and you think this comes from me? Besides, you’re one to talk. Aren’t you a pilot for BA these days?’

 

Later that night, when Ben is helping Havi pack her bags, she cuddles into his lap with a sigh. 

 

‘Hey, what’s up?’ Ben asks her, wrapping his long arms around her small, warm body.

 

‘I’m going to miss you and Mummy,’ she whispers, ‘I don’t like being away from you.’

 

‘You’re going to have fun,’ Ben assures her, kissing her hair. ‘Uncle Finn and Poe always take care of you. And everyone loves Mickey Mouse.’

 

Havi nods, but looks uncertain. ‘Do you miss your Mummy ever, Daddy?’

 

For a moment, Ben feels a knife of pain wrench his insides. But time and self-happiness have blunted the weapon, and he nods at Havi seriously.

 

‘Yeah, I miss her. She was always going away when I was younger, and I missed her then too.’

 

‘Did she bring you presents?’ Havi asks, her five-year-old priorities laid bare for him.

 

He grins. ‘Not always. And don’t think I don’t know where you’re going with this. If anything, missy, you should be bringing  _ me  _ back a present. You’re the one going to Disneyland.’

 

‘What do you want?’ Havi asks, ultra-serious, and Ben laughs.

 

‘I don’t know, Mickey ears or something,’ he says. ‘Make Uncle Poe try on every pair until you find a good one for me,’ he adds evilly.

 

Havi nods.

 

Suddenly, Ben shifts Havi in his lap. ‘She brought me home a puzzle one year,’ he says quietly, and Havi looks up at him.

 

‘A puzzle?’

 

‘Yeah, a puzzle. Like a jigsaw? She’d been away in... it must have been Switzerland. Bern, maybe. Anyway, the puzzle was a picture of the Alps, with a little Swiss village at the base, and a river running along the bottom. A thousand pieces,’ he recalls with a smile. ‘So I spent months putting it together, making piles of blue pieces and cloud pieces and mountain pieces until the picture started to come together. But just at the end, when it was nearly finished, I realised I was missing some pieces. Couldn’t find them anywhere. I was really upset, and Mom...’ Ben suddenly grinned, a happy smile to match a happy memory. ‘Mom knew how upset I was. So one day, a few weeks later, she comes to me with the missing pieces. ‘Here,’ she told me, ‘I found them’ and I put them into the picture, and brought that little Swiss village to life.’

 

‘That was lucky,’ Havi remarks, and Ben nods.

 

‘Yeah, but not really.’

 

‘Not really?’

 

‘Nope. You see, Mom knew how upset I was about not finishing that puzzle, so she sent off to Switzerland for a whole new one. She went through the new box, rifling through all the pieces until she found the ones I was missing. It must’ve taken her hours.’

 

‘She must have loved you lots,’ Havi says, and Ben feels tears prick at his eyes. He ducks his head against Havi’s, so that she won’t see his sudden pain. 

 

‘Yeah,’ he agrees. ‘Yeah, I guess she did.’

 

***

 

Ben’s life is a puzzle, he knows. In his life, pieces have come and gone, parents, lovers, wives, and friends. Places, planes, homes and work. Sometimes they fit perfectly into the context of his life, and sometimes they don’t. 

 

Lying with Rey that night, her naked body pressed up against his, one of his hands trailing over the contours of her skin, he sighs.

 

‘What is it?’ Rey asks, her voice rich with sleep.

 

‘Puzzle pieces,’ he says, pressing a kiss to her neck. She sighs with contentment, raising her head to give him better access to the gland she knows he wants to lick at.

 

‘You’re so strange,’ she replies, and he kisses her again.

 

‘You love it,’ he tells her.

 

‘What about puzzle pieces?’

 

‘I was just thinking about how you’re one, and Havi, too.’

 

Rey rolls her eyes. ‘If this is some ‘you complete me’ conversation, I really don’t think that -’

 

‘It’s not,’ Ben laughs, nuzzling her further. ‘You can’t complete me, not when you’ve always been there, first a background piece, and then one of the main ones, and now the keystone, the piece on which everything else hinges.’

 

Rey laughs, but kisses him gently, sliding her tongue into his mouth so that he feels like butter in her hands. ‘Ben,’ she says, and he glances at her in the darkness.

 

‘Yes?’

 

‘Save it for your next book and get some sleep, okay?’

 

He laughs before he closes his eyes.

 

***

 

Their second baby is born on a spring day. 

 

It’s another girl, but this time with blue eyes and fair hair that reminds them both instantly of Uncle Luke.

 

Ben stays with Rey through every hour of her labour, holding her hand and wiping her forehead and bringing her snacks and drinks whenever she needs them. So, he’s there the moment his little girl is born, instantly dissolving into tears at the sound of her healthy cries. They give her to Rey to hold first, and Ben stands by her shoulder, looking into the baby’s eyes, which, unfocused and new to the world, settle only on her mother.

 

But when they need Rey to deliver the placenta, they usher Ben into a corner, stripping him of his shirt and handing him his new daughter. They place the newborn against his chest, and he holds her close, tears still falling from his eyes and onto the small baby hat that warms her head. Her eyes try to focus on him and he smiles at her, rubbing her back.

 

‘Welcome to the world, my missing puzzle piece.’

 

She isn’t Havi, this baby, and he knows he’ll never get Havi’s baby years back. But she’s beautiful, and small, and theirs, and he can’t believe how lucky they are. 

 

Later, a doctor comes by to take blood from their baby for her Guthrie test. ‘Shall I test her for designation?’ He asks Ben and Rey, who look at him warily. ‘We can do that these days. Can tell you in just a few hours whether she’s Beta, or Omega.’

 

Rey looks at Ben, but he’s already shaking his head in refusal fervently.

 

‘Absolutely fucking not,’ he tells Rey. ‘She is who she is, and designation isn’t going to change that. Designation doesn’t mean a thing. It’s mostly in our heads.’

 

Rey nods, happy with that answer, and takes their baby back to her breast.

 

***

 

Havi is eight now, still the living embodiment of Leia. They’re living in Buckinghamshire, and are building a house next to the airfield and hangar they bought for a small fortune a year ago. Havi’s already learning to fly, sitting next to Ben, with Amy Johnson style goggles on her head and a scarf worn elegantly over one shoulder.

 

When they bring the baby home, Havi, Finn and Poe are at the door, and Ben can tell Rey isn’t sure who to hand the baby to first. 

 

‘Here, Havi,’ Ben instructs. ‘Sit here and open your arms like this.’

 

Havi sits, and Rey gingerly places their new little girl into her big sister’s arms. Havi’s arms curl unnaturally around the baby, and Rey snaps pictures on her phone while Finn and Poe cluck in the background. 

 

‘What’s her name?’ Havi asks, and Ben and Rey look at each other. 

 

‘Amy,’ Ben tells her, and Havi’s eyes flash with excitement.

 

‘Like Amy Johnson?’

 

‘Yes,’ Rey says, sitting next to her. ‘Just like Amy Johnson and her De Havilland. It didn’t feel right to have a Havilland without her Amy. Or an Amy, without a Havilland to depend on.’

 

‘Amy,’ breathes Havi happily. ‘Baby Amy.’

 

***

 

Rey’s tired. Amy’s been up all night feeding, and neither of them have slept, so she takes the baby upstairs for a midday nap.

 

‘Can you watch Havi for the day?’ She asks, but Ben’s already kissing them both, sending them on their way to get some sleep. Amy’s fingers curl around his for a moment and he stops to smile at her, to run his hand along the fair curls of her baby hair, before he does the same to Rey. Rey smiles back, happy even through her sleep deprivation.

 

‘Come on,’ he tells Havi, ‘let’s go flying.’

 

He takes Havi down to the hangar, to where the Comet sits untouched, ready for the day they can fly her as a family. He powers up an old Cessna he restored last year, and buckles Havi into the passenger side.

 

He taxies the plane down to the runway, making Havi run him through the take-off preparations, correcting her when she makes an error. She can sit her pilot’s license in seven years, and Ben knows she’ll probably fly a plane before she ever drives a car. 

 

But so be it. She’s a Solo, and planes are her blood.

 

There is, as always, that frisson of excitement in Ben as the engines power up, as the wheels begin moving towards air. 

 

‘Last instruction?’ He asks Havi, who giggles next to him.

 

‘Arm the doors for take-off, Daddy,’ she replies.

 

Ben grins.

 

‘Doors are armed,’ he replies. ‘Let’s get this girl in the sky.’

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amy Johnson’s plane is in the London Science Museum, and is well worth a visit. It’s a beautiful aircraft.
> 
> I’m on twitter and tumblr if anyone has any questions about this work.x

**Author's Note:**

> This is written and complete, because after reading ever-so-Reylo’s gorgeous ‘Your Pretty Little Heart’ (which you all need to read, basically now) I couldn’t get this out of my head, and it has passed the time while I wait (please not in vain!) for that epilogue. Updates will be Sunday and Wednesday. Thanks for reading!


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